


The Facility

by WilmaKins



Series: The Facility [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Aliens Made Them Do It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Chains, Civil War Fix-It, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Drunk Steve Rogers, Drunken Confessions, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gags, Hand Jobs, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 155,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: After coming so close to losing against Thanos, the Avengers have decided to set aside their differences and work as a team again. Well, they're trying... But there are a lot of hurts that haven't gone away, and a lot of things still unsaid, and a lot of tension...And that was BEFORE Tony accidentally ended up on an undercover mission with Steve as his fake boyfriend - at what turns out to be an alien sex club.Canon Divergent post IW AU - Tags to be updated as updates are written... but I think you probably get the gist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, the short answer is - an in joke went too far, and this got written. 
> 
> Secondly, this is a sex-pollen style story, so there are some consent issues. No one objects to anything as its happening, and both parties are under the same influence, and both are equally innocent in ending up in that situation - but if you have any particular concerns or triggers, please let me know. 
> 
> Thirdly, this will have an element of the unreliable narrator in places. There are places, especially early on, in which Steve and Tony may think rather unfair things about one another, or the events of CACW... but they aren't *necessarily* in their right minds when they think some of these things, and all these things will be addressed and redressed by the end...well, that's the idea. Also, just to be upfront about these things, I am mostly team Tony in CACW. However, I still love Steve, and understand his actions, and OVERALL, I think they both have a lot to learn about each other and apologise for... So, the idea is that this will not be pro or anti either of them, when taken as a whole.
> 
> Finally, this is only written in rough, so there may still be tags added - but it's definitely going to have angst and sex, if that helps you decide whether to continue reading. Which I hope you do...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :-)

It was incredible, how closely this mission resembled Tony’s personal vision of Hell.

Well, not the place itself – the place itself was beautiful. Just walking into the lobby, Tony could see The Facility was more opulent and ornate than anywhere he’d ever been. Every individual element was _perfect_, as though they rebuilt this entire place every day, from only the most exquisite materials and using only the finest craftsmen. The marble counter-top of the reception desk shone so flawlessly, it’d made Tony’s fingers itch to mark it, the way he always wanted to jump into untouched snow.

Tony had always assumed that Hell would be uglier than this – and yet, Hell this undeniably was.

For a start, Tony hated being unprepared. He couldn’t do the equations unless he had all the variables – and, on this occasion, he had _none_ of the variables. After three weeks of background research, all they knew about The Facility was that it was a retreat for wealthy couples... That was _it_, for hard facts. Everything else was supposition and guess work. The few clues they did have were both vague and unnerving.

The fact that so many of the people who went to The Facility were never seen again – but never reported missing.

That it was so hard to find information about the place, even with their advanced systems.

The rumours circulating amongst the city’s billionaires, about aliens and gods and other planes of existence – always heard from a friend of a friend, never with any useful details attached.

After all that investigation, The Avengers had reached the same conclusion they started with – that The Facility was dodgy as fuck. That they had no choice but to go in and see what was going on-

Or rather, _Tony_ had to go in and see what was going on, because only recognised billionaires had any chance of getting by the gate.

And, that much, Tony could’ve accepted as his famous bad luck. He hated going into situations blind, and he hated the idea of anything alien, and all in all he wished someone else could’ve done this. But that much he could deal with. That sort of thing he was used to.

What struck him as far _beyond_ his usual bad luck, was the fact that this place only accepted reservations from couples.

That, thanks to the most tragic culmination of office politics to ever occur, he was undercover at some sinister cult retreat with _Steve_ as his fake boyfriend.

That was way more than unfortunate. This whole thing already felt like a test of his personal limits –adding a fake relationship with Steve just seemed unnecessarily spiteful. The sort of thing a supervillain would have thrown in, because of a personal grudge against Tony.

But still, Tony had tried to smile as he checked them both in. He’d tried to act like one half of a happy couple at the start of a vacation, while he scanned the lobby for anything that might ambush them or brainwash them or eat them… He’d tried to ignore Steve, and the attitude radiating off of him. And then a smiling blonde woman had appeared beside them, and introduced herself as their representative, and offered to give them the grand tour of the building – and Tony had thought, _this is going to be hell._

Ha.

Little did he know.

Because Tony – naïve and foolish little cherub that he was – had been braced for an alien lab full of inhumane experiments. An army of brainwashed people, being prepped for warfare. A huge slug, awaiting its next human sacrifice. You know, something simple.

And then the guide reached the first stop on her tour, a room just off of the main corridor that she euphemistically called a ‘lounge’.

And – casual as you like – she walked them both right into an orgy.

He was undercover at an orgy.

With Steve.

…He really wished it’d been the giant slug.

“So, this is one of several lounges you’ll find dotted around The Facility” the guide explained brightly, gesturing to a large room, with a high ceiling and low lighting, and maybe ten plush, red couches-

On which several couples were enthusiastically fucking.

“They’re just a general space where people can relax, and enjoy themselves” She carried on, her voice polite and entirely unaffected. And it wasn’t so much that Tony was lost for words – there were an awful lot of very strong words in his head right now, actually. But he wasn’t allowed to say any of them, because he was _supposed_ to have come here for… this. Their cover was that they were a couple who had been referred here, who already knew all about it and were just here to… have a good time…

_Oh God_…

But Tony did just about remember their cover story, as the guide turned around to face them again. He hoped he’d arranged his face into something other than abject horror.

“This place is beautiful” He blurted – and yes, he _would_ kick himself for that later. But right now, he had to say something. “I mean, I’ve been to some pretty fancy places – I’ve _built_ some pretty fancy places… and this is…” He gestured vaguely to the bar at the back of the room. A huge, sparkling glass bar that might actually have been made entirely of diamonds.

“Hm, lovely isn’t it?” The guide beamed, with complete sincerity. “We’re very proud of it.”

One of the men on the couches nearest to them suddenly let out a high, pleading moan, and began babbling – _loudly_ – that he was close. Tony could see Steve blushing from a foot behind him.

“Are you okay?” The guide asked with professional concern, looking over Tony’s shoulder.

“Oh, we’re good” Tony leapt in to answer for Steve – still not able to turn and look at him. “We’re excited, really. It’s just, you know, first time doing… anything like this...” He felt an inch of relief when he saw her eyes soften reassuringly, her lips melting into an understanding smile.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a great time” She spoke directly to Steve, her voice soft. And Steve didn’t answer her.

“Shall we?” Tony suggested, too enthusiastically, trying to get the guide’s attention again. Thankfully, she seemed to accept Steve’s reaction as simple human shyness. She turned to smile at Tony instead, before leading them back into the corridor.

*

The Facility was a broad place – in every sense of the term.

Their tour had taken them over half a mile, and through night clubs and bars and spas and restaurants and parks and grottos – and an awful lot of sex. Sex in all of the above places, and in rooms specifically designed. There were live sex shows, and screens displaying graphic images and staff offering products for any conceivable sexual fantasy.

Although, once Tony got over his initial shock – and the glowing awkwardness of Steve, a few feet behind him – he recognised that this place didn’t really host every conceivable sexual fantasy. What was shocking about this place was how casually sex was treated, the fact that it was everywhere… but the sex itself all seemed relatively mainstream.

Well. He wasn’t sure Steve would agree with that statement. At one point they’d walked past an ‘erotic theatre performance’ in which a woman was being (quite happily) fisted – and Steve had _literally_ thrown his hands over his eyes. Luckily it had been too dark in that room for their guide to notice… But Tony got the impression Steve wouldn’t appreciate being told that all this wasn’t that extreme-

But it wasn’t.

…There was just _a lot_ of it.

…also, Steve was right there the whole time.

Eventually the tour came to an end and the guide showed them to their suite.

“So, if you need anything else at all, just ask any member of our team” She concluded cheerfully from the doorway. “Just to remind you, we don’t tolerate the use of any drugs that weren’t dispensed by Facility staff. But you’ll find a wide range of substances available from the bars and kiosks, and we’ll be happy to advise you on their use and side effects.”

“Er, right, thanks” Tony muttered – because this was, in fact, the third time she’d mentioned drugs “I’d tip you, but…”

She smiled and shook her head – there was no money allowed at The Facility. It was all covered by the not insignificant fee that Tony had stumped up to ensure this in the first place.

“Enjoy your evening, both” She told him warmly, and left him to close the door.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

After a moment, Tony worked up the strength to turn and face Steve. He looked _shell shocked_, and thoroughly miserable-

And, God help him, Tony wanted to laugh.

But this really wasn’t funny. This was awful for so many reasons. Just being alone with Steve was awful, these days. Tense, and painful, and burdened with a thousand unspoken words…

The world had forgiven Steve and his team, since Thanos. Knowing how close they’d come to being turned to dust had given the politicians a sense of perspective – and an electorate that loved The Avengers again, at least for a little while. And, on paper, Tony had forgiven them too. Officially speaking, they’d buried the hatchet. They were working as a team again. Everything was okay now.

Except nothing was okay now. For Tony at least, nothing had really changed since Steve had rammed his shield into his heart. Since the day Steve had explained that he’d _had_ to chose Bucky when it came to it – _because Bucky was his friend_. They’d never talked about any of that. Steve had just said he wanted to come home, and Tony had said that he didn’t want to hold onto the resentment, and that was supposed to be everything made better again…

Tony had told himself that this was the least worst option. That he’d made his peace with the fact that Steve wasn’t sorry and would never be sorry. That, even if his heart had been irreparably broken, it was better to be broken hearted with a team of people to help him defend the world. But every single day there was a moment when Tony could’ve snapped, and said it all anyway. At least one moment when he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter. Tony had spent the last few months waiting for the spark that would blow this tinderbox, the minor disagreement that would start them fighting about _all_ the things they were pretending they’d moved past.

And he just really didn’t want it to be an argument about fisting, okay?

So, even though he still really wanted to laugh, Tony managed to steady himself and ask,

“So…where do you think we should start, looking for answers on this thing?”

For two whole seconds, Steve just stared at him like he was mad. Then he seemed to shake himself to the same conclusion Tony had come to, dropping his eyes and taking a breath before he answered.

“Well, we need to work out whether the missing people are still here” He said, in his most Captain America voice. “And we should probably try to work out who’s running this place, and if there’s something else going on…”

He trailed off into an awkward pause.

“Well, we’re not going to work any of that out from here.” Tony managed, talking somewhere over Steve’s shoulder. Actually, this hastily derived plan was entirely about getting the hell out of this room – but there was still some logic to it. He could drag some logic out of it. “And I personally think I’ll find it easier to look around without the personal sex narrator – you know, when I can freak out at my leisure, instead of pretending I booked this for our anniversary.”

Steve glared at him.

“You want to go and have a look around.” Steve repeated, slowly, in a perfectly level tone.

It set Tony’s teeth on edge.

He would’ve liked to ask exactly what Steve was implying. What he imaged Tony would be getting up to. Why he always thought the worst of him.

But he just was _not_ going to argue about this.

“That is literally what we’re here to do…?” He said, instead. Steve’s shoulders slumped in a defeated sort of a way. He sighed, _good point._

But he didn’t say anything.

“Right. Well. The radios work, if anything happens.” Tony went on, eventually, already edging his way toward the door “I’ll see you later”

Because, of course, he wasn’t going to be inviting Steve along.

*

For a few seconds Steve just stood there, staring at the space Tony had left behind, listening the ringing silence left in his wake.

Then he let his head fall into his hands.

Oh, this was _horrible_. Beyond horrible. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He should have pulled out of this mission before it even started. Everyone had been looking at Steve to object, when someone – probably Bruce, he couldn’t remember – had pointed out that Tony should probably take someone enhanced, seeing as they couldn’t smuggle a lot of tech in… And, one by one, they’d all turned to look at him, because Vision still wasn’t the same after the stone had been removed and Wanda would’ve made even less sense…. And, even as they all worked out that there wasn’t a counter argument to the suggestion, that there wasn’t a better candidate… Even then, everyone knew it was a bad idea.

And no one wanted to say why.

They’d all looked to Steve to say it. And _Steve_ had known it was a bad idea, at the time. That Rhodey or Sam or even Nat would’ve been a better choice, however their abilities compared on paper… that there were probably excuses he could’ve given, without mentioning ‘The Thing That Happened’…

But – and wasn’t this darkly comic – he’d actually thought that maybe this might be a chance to talk to Tony.

Or even just a chance to work with Tony, maybe start building some of the foundations that could _lead_ to a real conversation, some day…

Or just a chance to be _with_ him… a few days when Tony wouldn’t be able to leave every room Steve walked into…he’d thought, maybe, even that might help break down some of the tension.

And now it looked as though they were going to spend the next ten days struggling to make eye contact.

Steve had managed to bring Tony to the one place in the universe that could possibly have made everything more awkward.

It wasn’t the sex, per se. Contrary to his public image, Steve wasn’t _that_ sheltered. He _had_ lived in an internet enabled future for nearly ten years now, and he’d been in the army before that – there wasn’t much going on here that he hadn’t seen before, and certainly nothing he hadn’t heard of. And it wasn’t that he was disgusted or offended or shocked by any of it…

Sex had always been more complicated than that, for him.

At least, it had since he woke up all alone in an alien future. A place where the words all sounded the same but meant something completely different, where society had shifted in such huge, multifaceted strokes that it couldn’t be comprehended or quantified or explained – you just had to be there.

There was so much that had changed about sex. Things that the troops only talked about in the shadiest bars were now the topics being discussed on The View. Things that family entertainers considered light banter in the forties now caused the gravest offence. There were a thousand examples of the differences, but no simple answer to the question _how is sex different now_? Nothing that SHIELD could put in a binder for him, to catch him up.

And no one he could ask.

Sex was one of the things you couldn’t ask about until you knew what it was okay to ask about. And what words you could use, and _when_ you can ask_._ By the time Steve had anyone he could call a friend – by the time he knew who he could trust, and had enough basic understanding to be sure he wouldn’t mortally embarrass or frighten anyone… by then, he already had that reputation. That history of never being comfortable talking about it.

So, yeah, okay, _talking _about sex was still something of an issue. It had gotten a little easier in the last few years, but, yeah, still not his _chosen_ dinner party conversation topic…

But that really wasn’t the same as having an issue with anything that was going on in this place. And, if he’d been here with Sam or Nat or… literally _anyone _else, then this place probably wouldn’t have been an issue at all.

But there was already so much that he and Tony couldn’t talk about.

They were too tense around each other to laugh together, or talk honestly, or understand each others feelings, or any of the things people rely on to cope with unexpected situations.

And he’d never been able to talk about sex with Tony, of all people, because…

Well.

Because it was complicated.

The point was, Steve was barely talking to Tony as it was, so he could hardly strike up a conversation about sex, of all things. And he couldn’t exactly start a serious conversation about anything else, while they were both trying to pretend that they weren’t at an orgy.

So, all in all, it looked as though this week wouldn’t be going as he planned.

He sighed heavily, and turned to walk into the room. He knew that he should probably be doing his own reconnaissance right now, but he was still waiting for his head to click into gear. He hadn’t figured out which thoughts he was supposed to be ignoring and which he should be forcing himself to focus on… so, for a few moments, he just didn’t. He simply wandered through the suite, in a miserable sort of haze, and tried to take in his surroundings.

It _was_ a beautiful room.

There was a large, square living area, with a cream coloured carpet that was so thick it bounced to walk on it. There were three huge couches, and Steve had no idea what fabric they were covered with, but it was so luxurious that a shiver ran up his spine when he touched it. The bathroom was bigger than Steve’s apartment. He only glanced into the one bedroom, but he was pleased to see that the bed was roughly the size of a parade float…not that it should matter, he reminded himself, as he fully intended to sleep on the couch.

As his mindless little tour of their quarters came full circle, his eyes fell on the bar in the corner of the living room – the tall, crystal cabinet, displaying hundreds of amber bottles…and little vials of pills.

He _knew_ he should probably go and investigate that, at least. He could at least make himself read some labels, in the name of the mission…

…later.

He was just so tired right now. He wasn’t sure when that’d snuck up on him, but suddenly he just wanted to sit and stare into the middle distance for a little while. So, he sank into one of the couches – literally groaning as it took his weight, the material rolling down his back like a caress… And he remembered Tony’s voice

_This place is beautiful_.

Steve smiled, in spite of himself – but only briefly. That’s how it worked, these days. Even the things about Tony that made him smile made him sad. He thought back to that short period in his life, when he might’ve been able to tease Tony for that. When Tony would’ve teased him back, for being awkward and embarrassed and flustered – but without malice. With a certain sort of affection, sometimes… those few warm moments that had filled him with so much hope –

And he couldn’t think of them now, without remembering what it had come to. He couldn’t bare to think of what they might’ve been, by now, if only things hadn’t… if only _he_ hadn’t-

He cringed, realising how badly he was explaining this, even in his own head. Recognising that he still didn’t have the words for his regret and his guilt, he still wasn’t sure if those were the words he should be aiming for anyway. He had no idea _how_ to tell Tony he was sorry. How to _explain_ the things he wasn’t sorry for, without making everything worse. How to tell Tony how he felt about him – especially without… you know, actually telling Tony how he felt about him…

Ugh. _Why_ had he even wanted a chance to talk to Tony, when he had no idea what to say anyway…

The fact was, everything was already ruined. The only mature thing he could do now was accept it, and try to help people anyway.

…at this orgy.

God, he hated his life.

*

Tony arrived back at the room a few hours later, looking every bit as tired as Steve felt.

The tension had gone from his shoulders, and he wasn’t gritting his teeth anymore… but in place of that was a sad sort of heaviness. He looked as though he’d just finished hearing bad news, or thinking very hard about life… Steve would’ve liked to ask.

But he knew Tony would tell him it was none of his business. That he’d lost any right to ask how Tony was feeling… and the trouble was, Steve knew he had a point. So, what could he say?

He wouldn’t have known how to answer him anyway, whatever he’d said…

“Did you find anything out?” He asked instead. His coping mechanism of choice. Focus on the mission, the fight he could be sure about, the role he knew how to play in any circumstances… It wasn’t the comfort it once was. It was a routine that had become more and more difficult, more cumbersome, as the years had gone on, like a pair of shoes he’d outgrown or an old car that had been run into the ground… This used to work, it used to fit… and he couldn’t say what day exactly he’d lost hold of even this, but he knew now. It wasn’t that simple, really. He couldn’t _just_ be Captain America… There was no fight he could be sure about. He knew all that, and yet he did this anyway –

Because he didn’t know what else to do.

“A few things.” Tony sighed, walking into the room and flopping out on the couch, just as Steve had done a few hours earlier. Steve braced for a joke, a challenge, a dig… and was far sadder that it didn’t come “We’re _not_ on earth, by the way.”

Steve huffed out an irritated little sound. He thought, _again_, that he should have put a stop to this – if not when he and Tony had been partnered up, then when they’d realised that The Facility could only be accessed via magic portal. He thought back to that secret location out in the desert, to the space that had opened in the air, like one of Strange’s portals without the sparkles. It’d looked a lot more sinister without the sparkles. And the ‘agent’ gesturing at it, a salesman’s smile still plastered on his face, even though Tony’s cheque was already folded into his back pocket… The strange colour of the earth, on the other side of the doorway… It’d all turned Steve’s stomach.

He should’ve said something, he should’ve told his ‘boyfriend’ that he had a strange feeling about it and asked to speak to him in private – asked if Tony was sure he was ready to go back into _space_ after…

But that’d been too complicated. So he’d just followed Tony into the unknown, and spent the last few hours hoping that maybe they were just on the other side of the planet – that maybe they _did_ have the option of just driving away from this place. 

Apparently not, then.

“You’re sure?” He exhaled. Tony barely bothered to roll his eyes.

“Yeah. There’s a roof garden” He explained, curtly, putting his feet up and letting his head slide down to rest on the arm of the couch. “The stars are all wrong. We’re a _long_ way from earth.”

“Great” Steve sighed, redundantly.

“Also, they’re _really_ big on the drug thing here, that’s definitely something…” Tony went on, his eyes falling shut. “I didn’t see any, like, office, or anything… but I didn’t go back over the whole place… I guess maybe back where reception was, or something…” His voice grew heavier, until it trailed off completely. Steve finally realised that Tony was falling asleep.

He wanted to tell Tony that _he_ would sleep on the couch… but he couldn’t think of how to do it, without picking a fight.

He wanted to tell Tony that it was amazing that he just knew the stars like that, that he’d have liked to talk to him about it.

That he’d have liked to talk to him about so many things, over the years… That he’d have been interested, that he’d have enjoyed the company…

But there had _always_ been a thing he wasn’t saying. Things he _couldn’t_ talk about, that he literally hadn’t known how to talk about… the things you _had_ to talk about, before you talked properly about anything else.

So, as usual, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there and watched as Tony slowly melted into sleep, thinking all the things he wasn’t allowed to say.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony woke up feeling…

_Rested_.

It was so strange a feeling that, for a moment, he panicked that he was having a stroke. His head felt clearer, his body felt lighter… everything looked a little brighter, and crisper, but for once it didn’t hurt his eyes to focus. When he realised these were actually just the effects of a good night’s sleep, it was almost more unnerving.

It’d been _years_ since Tony had had a good night’s sleep.

There were a few weeks, after he’d had the arc reactor removed, when he’d been able to sleep without dreaming. A few mornings when he’d woken up feeling _better_, ready to get out of bed before a blearing alarm forced him to.

But then SHIELD fell, and there were all those new questions and anxieties to keep him from drifting off…

And then UTRON and Wanda, and all those new nightmares – and the _old_ nightmares, about portals and space and Chitauri warships, now intermixed with the dark visions Wanda had put into his head.

And then Siberia… and all the times he’d woken up gasping and grasping at his chest, never sure if he’d been dreaming about the bunker or if he’d regressed to nightmares about Afghanistan. Just that dull pain in his heart…

None of those anxieties had gone away. If anything, this place should have made every one of those issues worse – not to mention all the additional fears that should’ve kept him awake. It made literally no sense for him to have slept as well or as deeply as he had.

And yet.

He sat up, and ran his hands through his hair, and stretched. And listened. After a second or two of total silence, Tony felt sure that Steve was still sleeping. He wasn’t sure why he was relieved, but he was. It was only a few minutes alone with his thoughts… but he’d take it.

Even if he didn’t really know what he was going to do with it.

He _should_ probably think of it as an opportunity to plan. But the trouble was, the mission wasn’t at the top of his list of priorities. It should have been, but it wasn’t. His immediate concern was how the hell he was going to handle this thing with Steve, when he was forced to actually spend some time with him.

And he thought, briefly, about what Steve would be thinking and how he might react and what he might say – the necessary starting point for any plan.

But he didn’t know any of that, did he? He’d be an idiot, to ever think he did.

There was no point, thinking back over the time they’d spent together or cataloguing the few personal insights Steve had shared. Any _personal_ conversation he and Steve ever had would’ve been in that brief period, after their animosity toward each other thawed and before everything turned to shit.

The year Steve had spent secretly searching for Bucky.

The year that Tony spent thinking of Steve as someone honest, and compassionate… and a friend. Thinking that Steve was a terrible liar, thinking that it made him so uncomfortable. Thinking that Steve might be stubborn, and reactionary, and annoying as hell sometimes – but never that he couldn’t trust him. Never that he’d be that cold.

But all those times Steve had so _casually_ told everyone his weekend plans, when his weekend plans were in fact a man hunt in Eastern Europe. With Sam. Or Nat.

How many times Steve had said nothing – or worse still, joined in the conversation – when Tony had mentioned his parents. Knowing that Sam knew the truth about them. And Nat knew the truth about them. But Tony wasn’t allowed to.

All the things Tony might’ve been able to do, to find Bucky or help Bucky or whatever it took to protect everything he’d ever built – if Steve had ever given him the chance. If Steve hadn’t decided that Tony would just have to accept the best that other people could do. That, on balance, it was better to risk Tony’s entire world than risk telling him the truth.

And, God, Tony was suddenly so angry.

Angrier than he’d been in weeks.

Maybe it was just how awake he was. Maybe, until now, he’d just been too worn down and weary to properly feel exactly how furious he still felt. His blood ran hot with it now. His eyes stung. He remembered how angry he’d been when it first happened… he felt that same rage now. Anger at Steve. Anger at himself.

Here he was, trying to plan for Steve’s awkwardness in this situation – when Steve might’ve spent the last two years fucking his way from safe house to safe house, for all Tony knew. When Steve might never have been shy or awkward about things like this, any more than he’d actually been awkward telling a lie. It might all have been part of the cover story.

Thinking about it, maybe this was more hurt than anger. Either way, it made Tony want to hit something.

And then he remembered the last time he’d felt like this, and it was enough to stop him cold.

The last time that Tony had been angry and hurt enough to hit something, he’d chosen to hit Bucky. The one part of the whole sorry affair that he felt ashamed of. The thing that meant, after trying that hard and losing that much, Tony couldn’t even claim the moral high ground. Not completely.

And it wasn’t that he felt bad for either Bucky or Steve. He’d not gotten as far as asking whether his reaction could be justified. He just knew that he’d not bothered to ask himself that at that time. That he’d only done it _because_ he was hurt, that he’d been emotional and irrational. It was the same embarrassment he’d felt as a kid, when he was reprimanded for throwing tantrums and ruining some big event.

Whether the temper tantrum was justified was irrelevant. He still always wished he hadn’t had one.

So, he wasn’t going to have one now. Even though his muscles were still tensed with it, even though it was still an annoying noise at the back of his head – he resolved _not_ to be angry.

And there was no point in trying to plan this thing with Steve, because it would only make him angry.

So, he was just going to get up, and have a shower, and deal with Steve when it came to it.

And just as he came to this conclusion, Tony recognised the blanket that he’d thrown onto the floor when he woke up – or, rather, he remembered that it hadn’t been there, when he fell asleep. He… resented that, mainly. Probably. He couldn’t risk thinking about it.

If he was trying not to lose his temper, it was best not to think about Steve at all.

*

Mercifully, The Facility didn’t seem to be so over-sexed at this time of the morning.

There were still a lot of people walking around in robes and nightwear that covered very little, and a few couples making out more enthusiastically than would _normally_ be considered appropriate – but, after last night, the walk down to breakfast was a blessed relief.

Tony and Steve hadn’t said a word to each other since they left the room. Logically, Tony had worked out that this would keep things as bearable as they could be – that, at the very least, it was the best way to avoid a fight. But, by the time they were shown to a table, the tension between them had gotten so bad he was starting to rethink. He wasn’t sure _anything_ he could say would make things worse than this.

And then, just as he was scrabbling for a comment about the mission, he noticed a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up in time to see a woman in an evening dress go to stumble by him, and then turn to say something to the man behind her – and lose her footing-

And fall backwards into Tony’s lap.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry” She gasped – obviously trying not to smile. And Tony just laughed, positively _delighted_ by the distraction.

“It’s fine, really.” He grinned, “Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m sorry” She answered quickly, slurring slightly. “Sorry, I swear we’ve not started this early in the morning – this is still last night.” She explained, holding out her hand for her partner. Slowly, and without an obvious comprehension, he took it, and let her pull herself up.

“Don’t be sorry, really.” Tony assured her, helping her to her feet “I love meeting new people.”

“Oh my God, me too” She told him enthusiastically, her previous embarrassment completely swallowed by her drunken confidence. “I’m Vanessa, by the way.”

“Tony” He smiled – and then, in a bright, shiny burst of sudden inspiration, he added “You should join us for breakfast.”

He could feel Steve throwing him a look from across the table, and pointedly did not turn his head. Vanessa was oblivious.

“Oh my God, yes, we should do that.” She announced, turning to her partner – who was obviously completely out of it. He was swaying slightly on his feet, his eyes heavy, staring through her as she spoke.

“What?” He asked, eventually. And Vanessa sighed.

“We’re having breakfast with Tony and his boyfriend” She told him, already walking over to drag the next table closer. Tony forgot that he wasn’t supposed to flinch, hearing Steve called that. Luckily neither of their new friends were in any state to notice. “This is my husband Andrew, by the way”

“Hi” Tony gave him a little wave, and Andrew waved back, like he was mimicking him. Tony waited until Vanessa had taken her seat, and gently mimed Andrew into doing the same, before he said, “This is Steve.”

“I know” Vanessa answered quickly, and then caught herself “I mean, I know I’m not supposed to know – first names only and all that, but, you know I know, right? I mean, I didn’t know you two were…” And she gestured between them.

“_Shhhh_.” Tony said, his smile frozen on his face – because it was as close to _please shut up_ as he could get away with. “That’s a secret.”

“Oh, don’t worry, everything at The Facility is a secret.” She slurred, dramatically. “I mean, you know who I am, right?” And, now that she said it, he did. Vanessa Liu, CEO of VelSec Communications – he’d actually met her before, very briefly, years ago. A no nonsense businesswoman who was surprisingly softly spoken in real life-

Well. Who’d’ve guessed?

“But you’re not going to rat me out.” She carried on. And Tony laughed.

“I swear.” And he glanced across the table. Andrew had fallen asleep, his head resting on his fist, and Steve was blushing slightly, a strange look on his face…

Tony snapped his attention back to Vanessa.

“So, how long have you been here?” She asked, before he could get a word in edgeways.

“Er, we got here last night-”

“Does that mean you’ve not eaten here yet?” She interrupted, her eyes widening.

“No, actually. And I’m starving, now that you mention it.”

“The food here is _incredible_. I mean, just – oh, they do this thing here, The Morning After Breakfast, you _have_ to try it.”

Tony looked over at Steve again – and Steve just threw his hands up in surrender.

“I think that’s a yes.” He sighed, trying to keep the animosity out of his voice. And then he looked back at her. “So, how long have you been here?”

“Oh, about… six months, I think?” She answered, like it was no big deal.

Tony tried really hard not to look surprised.

“…As long as that?” He managed, eventually.

“Yeah, I think so… you kind of lose track, until you look up the date, you know?” She commented lightly, like she was expecting him to relate.

“That must be getting expensive, by now.”

“Oh, no – it’s all covered by the original price.” She beamed “So, you know, if _you_ end up wanting to stay a little longer, you should ask them – they actually really like people to stay. They’re like, super-proud.”

Her monologue was cut off as the waitress appeared beside the table, and Vanessa turned to order breakfast for all four of them – in spite of the fact that Andrew clearly didn’t want anything. Tony took the opportunity to throw Steve a sceptical look, and Steve pinched his lips, _yeah, that is odd_.

“I don’t think I could get away with staying any longer” Tony tried to sound regretful “It was hard enough arranging ten days away, without telling anyone where they can reach me.”

“Our kids think we’re meditating at a Tibetan monastery” Vanessa laughed. “Honestly, they’re so self-centred, they barely ask about it – they _will_ let you call home, you know, if you ask at reception.”

“So… who’s running your company?”

“My daughter, in an unofficial sort of way – tell you the truth, I think she’s glad to have us out of the way for a while. Give her a chance to show what she can do – she’s only twenty.”

“You must be very proud.” Tony replied, softly, ignoring a low churning in his gut. The little voice that whispered, _that’s too young, for that sort of responsibility_. The reason Tony knew that…

“Oh, we are – I was just kidding when I called her self-centred. I love her really.”

_But not enough_, Tony thought, bitterly.

It didn’t put him off of talking to her though, because she was just too perfect a companion for this exact moment. Her constant, inebriated chatter was an impenetrable buffer to any interaction with Steve. Her total lack of inhibitions meant Tony could ask her for all sorts of information, without her even wondering why.

By the end of their meal – which _was_ delicious, by the way – they knew that they’d barely scratched the surface, on their little tour. That there were actually at least three levels, that private parties happened on the third floor – _but that you need a special invitation to go to those, you know, to keep the numbers right_. They’d also been given countless recommendation about where to go at different times of the day, and what to wear – and what drugs to take.

Eventually, Andrew sat up miserably, and took one look at the plate of congealed food under his face, and asked Vanessa if they could just go to bed. She nodded, heavily – she’d started to flag by then, too.

“But maybe we’ll see you at one of the second-floor parties tonight?” She asked, by way of a goodbye. “We just sort of float between them, it’s the best way to do it.”

“Right, yeah, maybe” Tony nodded – because she had shared that particular pearl of wisdom _many_ times now. He watched the two of them until they were out of sight, mainly to put of looking at Steve for as long as he could.

But there came a point.

“Well, I think there might’ve been some useful information in there somewhere.” Tony muttered. “When my ears stop ringing, I’ll think about.”

“If you believe any of what they’ve just said.” Steve sighed, like he was talking to himself.

“Meaning?” Tony asked, just slightly irritably. Steve looked up, and blinked, liked he was surprised to realise he’d said that out loud… He frowned, and gave his head a dismissive little shake.

“Sorry, nothing…” And then, when he recognised that Tony wasn’t going to let him get away with that, “I just mean…they _could_ be lying about all of that… It was a useless observation, I’m sorry”

Maybe it was something in the tone of Steve’s voice, or the little blush that coloured his cheeks, but Tony was suddenly more curious than he was irritated… If he’d been talking to anyone else, he might’ve called it ‘concerned’.

“Why would they lie…?” His voice was softer now. Steve’s eyes flitted up again, and he shrugged.

“I dunno, because they used to work for Thanos?” He suggested, sounding weary “Because they’re actually Loki in disguise, because it’ll turn out later that she blames us for the death of her mother and this is all part of a plot for revenge… because they work for whoever’s running this place, because someone here is keeping an eye on us… probably would’ve made more sense… than those other suggestions…” He trailed off, defeated.

“You think that about everyone who talks to you?” Tony asked, cautiously.

“I do now.” Steve told him, seriously. Tony dropped his eyes.

He couldn’t help that it struck him immediately as very sad. That there was still that little pang of feeling…he wasn’t sure what to call it now, but something he’d felt about Steve before any of this happened. He knew there was a time when he would’ve asked Steve about this. Back when he had no reason to wonder if he’d be making an idiot of himself…

And now he thought of all those times they’d talked, back at The Tower. The times when Tony had felt brave enough to ask how Steve was feeling, and Steve had opened up a little, and Tony had felt so fucking optimistic…

When, in reality, Steve had probably been anxious about Bucky, or something Nat and Sam were up to… All those moods he’d hidden, or lied about. All the little performances he would’ve had to go through, at different times, to keep that one secret from Tony – all while Tony had thought he was getting somewhere. All the memories that had been so precious were actually just memories of Steve making something up, having to find something to fob Tony off with… wishing he wouldn’t ask. And Tony was still so humiliated, to think how much those moments had mattered to him. He wished he’d never had those conversations.

He was especially disinclined to start a personal conversation right now.

“Well, best answer to that is to independently verify some of that information.” Tony suggested, coolly.

“…You want to ask if we can extend our stay?” Steve quirked an eyebrow – and Tony pulled a sour face.

“God no – they might just say yes.”

And Steve _almost_ laughed. Tony saw it, just a flicker of a smile before he bit his lips together – like he knew he wasn’t allowed to.

“…But I could inquire as to prices, in a few days. See if the management confirm that crazy-ass business model.” Tony muttered.

“That’s what bothers you about it? The business model?”

“It’s one of the things – means whoever is running this place isn’t in it for the money.” Tony explained. “And _that_ means, whatever they _are_ in this for, they’re not telling anyone what it is. Which usually means it isn’t anything good.”

“You do nice things for people all the time without telling anyone” Steve reminded him, his voice far too casual for what he’d just said.

Tony paused, briefly. And then, because that had been just _too_ strange, he powered right past it.

“There’s a difference between doing charity anonymously and doing it _secretly_ – I’m not secretly topping up people’s orders and pretending to turn a profit from it. _That_ would be weird.” He answered, carefully.

“Well, I’m not the best judge of what is and isn’t weird” Steve conceded.

“And – assuming it’s true – it’s also weird if Vanessa Lui has just left her twenty-year-old daughter to run her company for her.” Tony went on. Steve shot him a questioning look, and Tony sighed “And, yes, I did that too – but not because my parents thought it was a good idea. My parents- died-”

The alarm in Tony’s head had started ringing before he’d even got the words out – but by then it was too late. There was no other way of finishing the sentence. Well, other than ‘_were killed_’, and that would’ve been worse.

And he saw the injured look rush into Steve’s eyes, the way his chest seized up.

He felt the twist of hurt, and panic, and anger – the temptation to throw in a dig, the physical resistance to talking about it.

The pause, stretching passed a second, and then two, the tension growing at an astonishing pace.

And then he saw Steve part his lips, like he was about to say something – and _Dear God, _no.

“You have to remember, most people who end up as the CEO of a major company are more driven than that” Tony threw himself forward in the conversation, like he could literally outrun an intervention from Steve if he got enough words between them in time. “And it _would _have been weird if, when I was twenty, my dad had suddenly decided to leave everything to me because he wanted to spend a few extra months having public sex with my mother.”

Steve ducked his head, and Tony couldn’t tell if he was trying really hard not to laugh, or just cringing very hard.

“_May-be_ you get one or two people do that, because executives have all flavours of midlife crisis” Tony conceded. “But, if that’s a pattern… _If_ it turned out that all those missing people just decided they’d rather stay here-”

“Then that is also weird.” Steve finished for him.

“Especially if no one is actually making anything out of it.” Tony added.

And then his brilliant idea reoccurred to him.

“Come on, let’s go and see if any of the other couples are feeling chatty” He suggested.

_I can’t think of any other alternative to talking to you_ .

*

Steve had given up trailing after Tony somewhere in the early afternoon.

By then, Tony’s little networking tour had taken them to sleek looking bar – all silver and black, with low couches and coffee tables, and a grand piano that no one was playing. Steve had watched Tony effortlessly engage another stranger in a conversation, almost as soon as they arrived, and realised that it really wasn’t necessary for him to stand awkwardly at the back of it. He wasn’t even sure that Tony had noticed him wander over to the bar. He could probably leave the room altogether and it wouldn’t matter, he thought, somewhat bitterly…

But he was supposed to be Tony’s partner on this mission. At the very least, he should stay within sight. The one thing that could possibly make Steve feel worse right now would be if Tony got ambushed while he was sulking.

And he _was_ sulking. He wasn’t quite sure how it’d crept up on him, but by the time he’d taken his seat Steve recognised a definite petulance bubbling under his skin. He hated himself for it, obviously, but he couldn’t deny it anymore.

And he couldn’t quite seem to talk himself out of it. It was almost like his mood was entirely disconnected from him, like this physical discomfort and emotional misery had arrived independent of anything he’d been thinking at the time. He just felt heavier, and more irritable, and more hard-done-by, as the day wore on. And no amount of thinking would loosen it, because he hadn’t thought his way into it in the first place. He tried giving himself a stern talking to, reminding himself why he wasn’t hard done by… but it just didn’t touch the sides. If anything, it added genuine guilt and regret to the cocktail of displaced emotions.

He heard Tony laugh. He could pick it out of the general babble of the bar; he’d know that laugh anywhere. It made Steve’s chest ache. He made himself look over, and saw Tony smiling at a well-dressed young couple, his eyes alive and happy as he looked between the two women – both of whom were obviously enthralled by his attention. _Obviously_. And Steve felt an immediate clawing of pain in his gut, and he wished it weren’t so easy to name.

_Jealousy._

Which was ridiculous. He felt _ridiculous._ He didn’t even know who he was jealous of – Tony, for having that easy charm, or the women he was talking to… Because Tony was smiling at them.

Steve was suddenly so keenly aware that Tony never smiled at him anymore… that he probably never would again. That he missed Tony so very much. He missed seeing Tony the way those two women saw him now, he missed watching him laugh and listening to him speak and feeling comfortable in his company. And Steve knew it was all his fault, and he knew he had no right to sulk about it… but it still _felt_ so unfair, to think that he’d never even get to see that Tony again.

He was jealous of those women because they got to see Tony. But he was also jealous because they could let Tony see _them_. Because they could just be natural with him and honest with him and never have to second guess anything they said – because they weren’t trying to hide anything. They weren’t scared that Tony would think they were flirting. They wouldn’t have to think up a lie if he asked them, _what are you thinking about?_

There had been so many times that Tony had asked _him_ that, back in The Tower. Or, _what do you want out of life? _Or, _do you ever think about what you’d do if you retired?_ Or, _so, what is your type_? And Steve had to scramble to think of what he _would_ have thought, if he hadn’t fallen in love with Tony Stark. What he might’ve been thinking about, if he hadn’t been thinking about… things he could never tell Tony when he asked, anyway. Steve could never even talk to Tony as a friend, because he could never work out how to act as though that was all he wanted. It meant every conversation was never quite natural, that there was so much of himself he had to hide even as he was trying to be open. It meant there were so many things he couldn’t quite explain…

_I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents Tony – but a big part of that really was how much I loved you. I’m not saying it was only that, but so much of it came back to that. Because I didn’t know how to make it better for you, because I didn’t want to hurt you that much, because I wanted to have all the answers for you when you did find out – because I couldn’t bear to lose you. And I know that was wrong, and I really am sorry for it… but please don’t think I did it because I didn’t think enough of you. _

But he couldn’t say any of that. Especially not now. And that meant whatever he _did_ say would be a story he’d come up with. _A lie_. It meant he’d have to sit and think of what he could say _instead_, how else he might explain it so that Tony forgave him… And that all seemed very manipulative and underhanded to him, somehow.

God, this was all very deep, wasn’t it?

Steve gave his head a shake, and let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He really had to get a grip. He reminded himself that he was actually supposed to be back up on a serious mission, not thinking the thoughts of someone sitting alone in a bar – and weird, self-indulgent thoughts, at that.

So, for the time being, Steve didn’t think at all. He took the opportunity to look around the room, and at the other patrons, thinking of it as making notes for later rather than giving any of it any real thought now.

All as high end as any other room they’d been in – the effect of which was starting to wear off the more Steve got used to it, and what does that tell you about human nature? Now that he looked, there were a few couples getting especially friendly on the couches at the very back of the room… so apparently they were getting on for that time of the day… Behind him, somewhere far off to the left, Steve just about caught the movement of someone coming out from behind the bar he was leaning on.

He turned to look, and had a fleeting moment of panic because, at first, he thought it was a child – _in this place_. But, when looked more carefully, he saw that her face was obviously aged. Her body, though small and slight, was an _older_ body, slightly hunched and creaky moving. She took her time, carefully lowering the bar back into place behind her, and gently polishing her fingerprints from the surface of it – which gave Steve a few seconds longer to consider her… to realise that she wasn’t human. The proportions of her face were slightly wrong, and there was a bluish tint to her skin that he’d just worked out _wasn’t_ the lighting… her arms were a bit too long for her body…

It suddenly occurred to Steve that, in all the time they’d been on this alien planet, this was the first non-human he’d seen. Well, that he’d known… Everyone they’d spoken to so far was completely fluent in the language of 21st Century earth, in any case. And Steve knew from experience – it was hard to keep up a conversation with a modern-day human, unless you were one.

He wondered where this woman was from. He wondered what she _did_. He’d taken note of all grades of Facility employee since they arrived – including brief glimpses of the cleaning staff, who were all apparently trained as ninjas. But still, he _had_ seen them. And they, like the reps and the waiters and the bar staff, were all human, and all had the same energetic affect, and all wore a variation of the same uniform. But this woman was completely different to all of them… and Steve couldn’t think what possible job there was left over for her to do…

And then she glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his for just a second. He looked away; a basic social reflex to being caught staring. And then, more subtly, he glanced over in her general direction again-

And she was gone.

Steve blinked, and focused his eyes on the spot where she’d been standing – and then immediately scanned the rest of the room. The nearest exit was at least a hundred feet away, so she’d either teleported out of the bar, or else she was a lot quicker than she looked…

_Still, you are pretty spry, for an older fellow._

_What’s your thing? Pilates?_

And Steve… almost smiled?

… Odd reaction, to that particular memory.

Steve shook it away, _again._ He reminded himself to focus on the mission. Take notes. Keep an eye on Tony. That was all he had to do right now, all he should be doing-

All he _could_ do, these days.

*

Tony was pretty confident he was smiling in the right places. Putting the right items of banal small talk in the right gaps – the women he was talking to seemed to be pulling the right faces. He thought.

The trouble was, no matter how hard Tony tried to focus on the conversation, his attention kept getting dragged back to Steve.

There was the physical temptation to keep looking over to him. The constant awareness of the shape of him, just out of his field of vision, like something caught in his eyelash. And the growing danger that he was going to find himself thinking all the things he’d been running from for months – that, if he wasn’t very careful, he’d end up thinking that Steve _was_ still attractive. That, even after everything, Tony might still be attracted _to_ him… at least, in some way-

So, for the time being, he was being very careful not to think about that at all. Not to even look.

But the other issue wasn’t as easy to outrun. The other question just kept echoing in his head as he tried to chit chat with…he was gonna guess Trish? He hadn’t been listening when either of them introduced themselves… He’d been too busy thinking back to breakfast.

_I dunno, because they used to work for Thanos? Because they’re actually Loki in disguise, because it’ll turn out later that she blames us for the death of her mother and this is all part of a plot for revenge… _

And, he could ignore the fact that it was a sad way to think.

He could ignore the fact that Steve had actually said it out loud…and how strange that was.

But Tony just couldn’t ignore that nagging observation… That he was sure he was _supposed_ to tell Steve that he was being ridiculous. That the ‘right’ answer was to assure Steve that he didn’t have to be that paranoid, that _no one_ could think like that all of the time, that he really didn’t have to be _that_ frightened of the world…

But…

He _was_ still annoyed that Steve hadn’t questioned more, before he gathered his little team and ran to Siberia…

He was angry that Steve had just gotten an idea in his head and run with it, without even thinking to let Tony know…

…Was he still angry, that Steve had gotten it wrong…?

Was that even okay?

And, maybe it would’ve been better if he _could_ just think about this…just… figure out what he thought about it…

But it was actually surprising hard to think, as the day wore on… and what little he could manage should really be focused on the people he was trying to talk to.

He tried to remember what he was supposed to be talking to them _about_. What purpose this plan served, beyond giving him an excuse to get away from Steve… who he now wished wasn’t all the way over there…

Oh, yeah.

“So, how did you find out about this place?” He asked, casually.

“Referral from friends” The other woman…the one that wasn’t Possibly-Trish, answered. “I mean, obviously I can’t say who…” But Tony was already holding up a palm, smiling, _I know, no names._

“How much warning did they give you, about what you were getting yourself into?”

“Oh, I think I know what you’re going through” Possibly-Trish assured him. “I mean, looking back, they _did_ tell us exactly what this place was… but when you first walk in, you don’t get that yet, and you’re just thinking that it’s kinda… different sex and drugs to what you were expecting?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Tony sighed.

“I take it your referral didn’t tell you too much about the place?”

“Well… like you say, they did, actually. They said a lot, and it’s not like any of it isn’t true” Tony rearranged what he’d just heard, hoping it would work as a bluff. “But I guess you could say I was expecting something different.”

“Oh! You should go to an assembly!” Possibly Trish announced, and her girlfriend rolled her eyes.

“They’re not actually called that.” She added “_She_ just calls them that, because they remind her of her school assemblies.”

“But they _are_ a bit like that” Possibly Trish carried on, defiantly “It’s like… a little, open meeting, and one of the staff goes through any announcements and a little run down of what’s going on that week – and they have other staff there, with, like, leaflets on stuff, and they answer questions-”

“They’re pretty corny, and no one goes after they’ve been here, like, a week” The girlfriend sighed, not unkindly.

“_But_, when you _are_ new, they’re kinda helpful” Possibly Trish shot her a look, and her girlfriend tilted her head, _it’s a fair enough point_.

Well, it was as good a lead as Tony was hoping to get. And, now that he had it, he was oddly anxious to get out of this conversation… to go and share it with Steve…

But, before he did that, he still had one more question he had to ask. A question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to…

“So, how long have you been here then?”

“Oh, about three months” Possibly-Trish answered “But we’re not going to be like the people who end up staying here for _years_.”

“No, we said maybe another three months, didn’t we baby?” Her girlfriend agreed, amiably

“But, just so you know – there is _no way_ you guys will end up going home in ten days.”

“Nine, now” Tony corrected – hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he was counting them down.

“Well, that’s my point” Possibly Trish agreed, eagerly. “Already ten per cent of the way through, and you’ve not worked the place out yet. It takes ten days to really _get it_, to understand what it is you’re trying to experience. Trust me, you just know you’ve got to stay a little longer to do the thing” And her girlfriend nodded along, _she’s right you know_.

Tony hoped he didn’t look as unnerved by that as he felt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that there will be points in this fic where both Steve and Tony think, feel and say things they might not ordinarily think or feel - and times when things they *did* already think might be somewhat corrupted, or exaggerated... 
> 
> Also, I'm aware this particular outburst comes across as one sided - I just want to reassure everyone other points and perspectives will get explored before long. I love BOTH my boys. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :-)

Tony had decided for both of them that they’d be having dinner in their room – not that Steve had any objection. By that time, a few people in the bar had started ordering food… and enough of them were licking it off of their partners to suggest that dinner was going to be a very different meal to breakfast.

And, heaven help him, for just a few minutes Steve was pleased at the idea of finally having Tony to himself. A reprieve from the constant stream of brash strangers… The hope that Tony might at least _look_ at him, if there wasn’t anyone he could use as a distraction.

And then they got back to the room, and Steve did have Tony to himself, and Tony _did_ look at him-

And, oh yeah, this was horrible.

“You find anything out?” Steve asked, his voice much quieter than he’d expected it to be.

“Maybe” Tony shrugged, lowering his eyes as he walked past Steve. “One couple mentioned a sort of, daily catch up thing they have every evening… might be worth going to…”

Steve thought about saying something. He literally thought the words _I should say something_… And that was the problem. It wasn’t anything to do with where they were or what was going on here – it was the same problem he’d had for the last six months-

He didn’t know _what_ to say.

Steve had accepted that, ultimately, what happened in Siberia was his fault. He knew he should never have hidden the truth about Tony’s parents, and that, without that mistake, none of it would have happened. And he wished now that he’d just called Tony as soon as Bucky told him about Zemo, and that he hadn’t fought Tony at that airport, or dragged all of his friends into a rogue mission to stop of army of super soldiers – of course he did, he knew there _weren’t_ any super soldiers, now. And, when it first happened, Steve had realised all of that, and he’d felt terrible about all of it, and he’d tried to accept the consequences of it…

Which, incidentally, was how men were told to deal with their mistakes when Steve was a kid. You accepted you’d fucked up, you vowed not to do it again, you didn’t whine about the fact that you’d lost that job or that opportunity or that friendship. An apology was simply that, in the forties – _I am sorry._ To have gone on any longer, with explanations of your motives and listing all the things you knew you’d done wrong and begging for forgiveness, would’ve been considered most self-indulgent. Embarrassing for the listener. Afterall, why should anyone want to listen to you moan on about _your_ perspective, when you’d wronged them? Why would they need _you_ to tell _them_ why they must be hurt? What right did he have to demand or expect forgiveness? He’d been taught, from a very early age, to accept and amend his failings stoically, and silently. Like a man.

And, like a great many things he’d been taught in the forties, Steve had come to recognise that all of that was total bullshit.

Unfortunately, he’d never quite worked out what to replace it with. It still _felt_ self-indulgent, to ask Tony to listen to his explanations. He still couldn’t think of _how_ to explain, without it sounding like he was making excuses, or that he wasn’t really sorry.

And he couldn’t see how saying that he’d simply been selfish and callous and not thought about Tony at all would make Tony feel any better.

He couldn’t see why Tony would forgive him, either way he did it…

And, now, of course, Steve had to think about what to do with the parts he _wasn’t_ sorry for…

He hadn’t had to worry about that, back when he was trying to be all Greatest Generation about the whole thing. The year he’d spent on the run, Steve at least had the comfort of simplicity. The purity of self-flagellation as a response to guilt and loss. It didn’t _matter_ what points Steve might’ve had, or what hurt Tony had caused _him_ over the years, seeing as he was never going to see Tony again…

But, of course, Steve couldn’t accept never seeing Tony again. He _had_ asked Tony to forgive him, he’d asked to come home – and, now that he was here, he had to figure out what he was going to say about all of that stuff. Or not.

He felt a bit like the partner who’d been caught cheating. Like lying to Tony about his parents was ‘A Wrong’ that automatically put him _in_ the wrong, made it his responsibility to apologise and make this right. Like there were some things you just knew better than to try and rationalise, or blame the other person for – at least, if you really did want to go home.

And, if you are caught cheating, you know better than to point out all the previous problems in the relationship that might not have been all your fault.

You know better than to ask the other person to think of it from your point of view.

You know better than to say you still aren’t sorry you went to that party in the first place.

Everyone knows better than to say any of that – but could anyone tell him what you said _instead_?

Because it seemed to Steve that the only alternative to saying any of that was lying about it. Pretending he was sorry for things when he wasn’t. Pretending he’d come to think things he didn’t think at all. He couldn’t see how that would make things better between them, either. And, seeing as he was _already_ pretending that he wasn’t in love with Tony, if he then started saying that Tony was right to blame Bucky or that he agreed Tony about The Accords… wasn’t he then just apologising for lying to Tony by telling Tony a whole bunch of lies?

Was that right…? No, really, he needed to know.

Because, otherwise, he was left with this awkward silence, and a bunch of filler questions about this mission.

“A daily catch up?” Steve repeated, meekly.

“She said it was like a school assembly” Tony sighed, falling into the couch. “Latest news, upcoming events, blah, blah, blah. Might give us some background on the place…”

“Yeah, sure, when is it?”

“Tonight’s is in… about an hour and a half” Tony informed him, squinting at the clock at the back of the room. “Assuming you want to go tonight. Or there’s a gangbang happening in The Blue Room. Those are our choices, apparently.”

_I’d rather go to the School Assembly than the gangbang… makes me sound like more of a pervert-_

It was only when Tony huffed a little laugh that Steve realised, he’d said that out loud.

…Shame the right apology couldn’t just fall out of his mouth like that.

“Okay. So, I think I’m pretty safe just outright asking what all these drugs are” Tony went on, swallowing the smile down like it was medicine. “I mean, people _do_ know who we are… they can’t find it that weird that we’d be curious about it? And – not to give any full names away, or anything – but I know a few people here are in pharmaceuticals. We _can’t_ be the first people to show a scientific interest in this stuff…”

“Fair enough” Steve answered, with a little shrug. “You want to ask anyone about extended stays?”

“Not yet” Tony shook his head. “I think all the… _weird-way-people-are-acting stuff_ is all too vague to ask about, just yet. Without making us look like we’re asking a lot of the wrong questions, anyway… I mean – people know who we are. If they _are_ up to something, stands to reason they’d be suspicious of us investigating anything other than our own… vacation.”

“And by the people-acting-weird-stuff, you mean like that Vanessa woman just abandoning her company?” Steve clarified.

“Well, that. But…” and Tony struggled for a moment, and then gave up “I dunno, a lot of this just feels unnatural to me – and that’s why I’m not going to ask about it, because that makes it sound like I didn’t beg a friend to refer me here, or something.”

Steve nodded. And then there was an awkward silence. And then Tony sighed again.

“I’m going to order us some food then.” He announced, wearily. “Wouldn’t want to be late for Assembly.”

*

Tony decided to go and change his shirt before they left for the evening – mainly as an excuse to get out of Steve’s way for a few minutes.

They’d exhausted all the mission related conversation by the time the food had arrived. After which, Steve had made a few brave little attempts at small talk, and Tony hadn’t known whether he resented Steve for bothering, or hated himself for the way he was reacting.

Tony was sure, if he was an outsider watching this scene, he wouldn’t like himself. He knew he was being bitter, and childish – he even felt a pang of sympathy, once or twice, when Steve made some earnest observation about the food or asked a desperate question about Tony’s energy research. The way he absorbed Tony’s cool, closed off responses like physical blows, immediately steeling himself to do it again…_ I can do this all day._ Tony hated himself, for _still_ finding that a little bit endearing.

And he hated himself for essentially giving Steve the silent treatment. He knew he was doing it, and he knew it was the worst of all the options. None of the catharsis of actually having this thing out, none of the superior serenity of letting it go. No chance of claiming the high ground, yet again.

But the trouble was, even though he knew this approach couldn’t possibly achieve anything, it was still the only option he could bring himself to take right now.

Tony couldn’t bear the thought of arguing with Steve about all of this. Or, rather, he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it, if it actually happened… He knew, if either of them snapped right now, he wouldn’t really get to say any of the things that kept him up at night. Steve wouldn’t listen, or understand, if Tony tried to explain why he was so hurt. He wouldn’t care. Tony had accepted that, the day he’d received Steve’s letter. When he’d read the line ‘…_hopefully one day you’ll understand’_.

Tony still daydreamed about having that argument with Steve, and he still enjoyed a wide range of fantasy responses that Steve might’ve had. Sadness, sympathy, remorse, fuck it, even anger… But Tony knew he wouldn’t enjoy the reality. A patronising, distant look, a softly spoken ‘I understand you’re upset’. Nope. He just couldn’t.

But he just _couldn’t_ sit there and make small talk.

He knew it was the best option available to him. Taking things as they were, rather than how he wished them to be… Thinking about what would be most efficient, and practical, under the circumstances… Then, logically, Tony should just swallow his resentment and make chit chat about the h'orderves. He should _want_ to reach a point where he could just laugh at Steve’s jokes and ask how he was feeling, and never even think about what happened…. But he just _couldn’t_.

He couldn’t bear to let his hurt be erased like that – he couldn’t bear to be _played_ like that. He felt like Steve’s plan was to just wait until Tony had gotten over his temper, to try and make him smile about other things so that he’d forget his little tantrum, to wait for it to get better with time… And Tony just couldn’t stand the idea of that working. He knew it was immature and stupid and probably hurting him more than anyone – but, right now, he’d still rather that than let Steve think he’d ‘won him over’. He just couldn’t deal with the idea of Steve smiling at him one day, _I knew you’d understand, eventually. _He resented Steve, for making these efforts instead of accepting the hurt he’d actually caused, for managing Tony’s reactions rather than dealing with them – for putting it on Tony’s shoulders, for making Tony the asshole for not going along with it.

But he couldn’t go along with it.

And he couldn’t tell Steve to shut up.

And he couldn’t think of what else to do.

So, he’d spent ten whole minutes changing his shirt. Because he came up with his _best_ plans under pressure.

But, eventually, the anxiety of hiding in the bedroom was as bad as the anxiety of sitting in the living room, so Tony accepted that they’d just have to be early for a daily briefing, for the first time in his life.

He strolled out of the room, looking exactly as casual as someone trying to look casual. He saw Steve take a steadying little breath, the same as he might’ve walking into a battle, and Tony still wasn’t sure whether he sympathised with Steve’s situation or resented being treated like a challenge to be overcome…

“You ready to go?” Tony asked, and Steve nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve decided never to ask if there’s a dress code” He said it so earnestly, Tony had to allow himself a thin little smile. And then, as Tony was scanning the room for his shoes, Steve added “So…when you say this place feels unnatural…”

Tony looked up, and met Steve’s eye.

There was quite a jump in Tony’s level of irritation with this, from just a minute earlier. It didn’t help that Steve’s efforts were getting more transparent, the more desperate he became. Tony was sure, any minute now, he was going to break and outright ask, _can you just forget how you’re feeling and talk to me anyway?_ And it annoyed Tony that Steve was ignoring his feelings, and, suddenly, it annoyed him that Steve just wasn’t taking no for an answer. That he was forcing Tony to make a choice between giving Steve his own way, or telling Steve to shut up – for which he would no doubt be blamed.

But Tony had never let people force him into choices. He took a slow breath, and warned himself not to be goaded into _either_ of those things.

“…I don’t think this is how people would naturally behave, under these circumstances.” Tony answered, his tone cool but not aggressive. A complete answer, but without any unnecessary words. Enough that no one could say he’d ignored Steve. Not enough for Steve to make anything of.

“Well, how would you expect people to behave… under these circumstances?”

Tony felt his chest tighten. He looked away.

“Differently to one another, for a start.” He suggested, lightly. “It seems unlikely that the one fantasy of _every_ billionaire on earth is the missionary position with the wife in public. You can look at this place and think that maybe they’re all enjoying the particular experience now, fine. But you have to wonder what put them _all_ onto that particular experience in the first place. You have to think of this place from their point of view.”

“…Think of it from their point of view?” Steve pressed. _Go on, keep talking._ Tony pinched his lips together.

_Yeah, you’ve always been pretty bad at that._

“…I _mean_, that you have a room full of very entitled people, who were all told – like we were – that they could basically do whatever they liked here, have whatever sex they like, take whatever drugs. And every single one of them said, no thank you, we’re just going to make like everyone else and spoon in the lounge bar?” And then he finally looked back at Steve-

Who was looking at him with such naked _hurt_ that it stopped Tony in his tracks.

“What?” Tony demanded, somewhere between irritated and anxious… and, even as he said it, he realised-

“I’ve always been pretty bad at…that.” Steve sounded numb.

…He’d said that out loud.

“Well, I don’t really know _what_ you’re pretty bad at. I’m just guessing, based on the clues I have.”

…And that.

…He didn’t even remember thinking that.

And there _was_ a little voice in his head, casually reminding him that this was all very odd. Like a friend making light of how bad something would look on paper… _you know, if you told anyone you were suddenly just saying words, without any conscious input, they’d think you were mad…_

But, in that moment, it didn’t _feel_ especially unusual. It certainly wasn’t alarming. In fact, as the words began to fall out of his mouth, Tony actually felt much calmer. Like he wasn’t directly connected to this fight anymore – just listening to it happen.

“It’s like… if you can imagine, if _I’d_ found out about Hydra and Bucky and my parents, not you. If it’d been me and Nat in that bunker, and _we’d_ decided not to tell you about Bucky – because you might get upset. Or because we didn’t trust you to handle it the way _we’d_ decided to. Whatever. And then me, and Nat, and some guy I met jogging _that morning_, we’ll call him Jimmy, why not – then me, Nat and Jimmy spend a whole year following up leads on my parents murder, without telling you. And _then_, when Bucky does turn up, in such a way as to put everything we’d built at risk, even then, I don’t tell you. I call Clint, because I trust him, and I call Wanda, because I trust her, and I call some paroled felon I’ve never met in my life, for some reason. And I let you run around trying to fix the whole thing fucking _blind_, because you don’t know anything about Siberian Super Soldiers – not until we get to the fucking airport, anyway. And then you actually feel bad, for not immediately listening to that clue I threw out in the middle of a combat zone, so you do all the investigating I never gave you the chance to do earlier, and you come to help me, only to find that the whole thing was a trap. Can you imagine how that would _feel_ Steve? Do you think you’d feel like making small talk with me right now? Have you _ever_ thought of it that way, before?”

By the time he’d finished, Tony’s ears were ringing. Steve was looking back at him in abject shock – but, in complete fairness to him, _Tony_ was pretty shocked by that outburst. It wasn’t even one of his many well-worn arguments, practiced during endless sleepless nights. It wasn’t one of the hundreds of analogies he’d made earlier. He didn’t really know _where_ that had come from.

Steve’s breath shuddered a little as he inhaled, slowly. He swallowed, hard. And then, in a tight voice, he managed,

“…I…I don’t think for a second that… that I know how you feel, about… what happened-”

“Left out.”

_…Left out??_

“…Left out?” Steve repeated, obviously taken aback.

“Left out.” Tony heard himself confirm.

_So, we’re going with that then…?_

“The thing is, before the airport, I really didn’t take any of it personally. I thought everything was just turning to shit” Tony heard himself explaining – probably more curious to find out what he meant than Steve was. “I thought Wanda didn’t agree with the detainment and Clint was there because he feels a debt to Wanda, and you were doing it out of loyalty to Bucky and Sam was doing it out of loyalty to you – shit culmination of issues, but what can you do. And then I get to Germany, and you just casually drop it on me that, _no_, actually there’s this whole big plan in play – that’s _been in play_ for two years – and you saw fit to tell _everyone_ except me. You called Clint, and didn’t think for a second that he might say, hold up Cap, Tony’s my friend too. You brought Scott Lang in, and you didn’t know if he was Ross’ secret lover, when you did that. You called Wanda, and she was literally the bad guy in the last fight we had. And all of you got together and discussed this thing like a team, because you knew when it came down to it you’d only have to say you needed help, and they’d be loyal to you – _but let’s not tell Tony, eh. You know what he’s like._ And then you tell me that everyone I know has been treating me like an obstacle to their world saving mission that _I’m_ not invited to, and I get two minutes to process that information before you’re all rolling your eyes like, _see, this is why we didn’t tell you. _And then, before you know it, I’m standing on a raft listening to all _my_ friends telling me – saying…”

_…Oh, God, what am I talking about?_

It was like waking up in the middle of a busy New York street. The switch to consciousness was immediate – what took a few seconds was figuring out that this _wasn’t_ a dream, and he didn’t know how he’d gotten here, and that he was actually quite scared.

…That _had_ happened, hadn’t it?

…He _had_ just said all that.

And now, in an instant, he had no idea why. He had no idea what he was in the middle of saying, what was supposed to come next – what the fuck he was going on about.

And he realised Steve was just staring at him.

_He’s going to cry_

_He’s going to hit me_

_He’s going to faint_

_He’s going to…just keep staring at me…_

And Tony was just staring at _him_…

Tony had no idea how much time had passed, if time was even still passing, or if everything had just _stopped_-

And then Steve took a little gasp of air, like maybe he really had stopped breathing for a time there. Tony saw Steve mouth his name, like he was too dazed to know he’d done it, or too stunned to make himself say it out loud. And Tony was suddenly gripped by a more severe panic than he’d ever felt in his life. A pure, instinctive fear. A physical _need_ to escape.

“Tony, I-” Didn’t come out much louder. Easy to talk over.

“It’s fine” Tony snapped, taking a step back. “I’m sure one day _I’ll understand_. When I grow up enough to see – then maybe I can join the gang-”

_What the fuck? No, this isn’t helping._

This was as mindless as everything that had just fallen out of his mouth – but this came from a different place entirely. This was just good old-fashioned shock and fear and embarrassment. This was him being defensive, and reactionary, because he’d found himself neck deep in a situation he couldn’t understand or explain… and because he was _mortified._ Because he was trying to think of anything he could say to distance himself from what he’d just said-

So, no, _that_ wouldn’t work.

“You know what? I’m being ridiculous” He tried instead, exhaling heavily. “No point in talking to me when I get like this. You should wait for me to calm down. I’m sorry. I’m just upset. We should go.” He was already heading towards the door. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

And he didn’t even look to see if Steve was following him.

*

The next thing that Tony was aware of was walking into an echoey, old fashioned looking hall.

It was as pristine and expensive-looking as anywhere else in the building, with dark hardwood flaws that’d been polished to a perfect finish, and intricately carved frames and skirting boards that would’ve counted as works of art on their own. At the far end of the room, opposite the grand double doors they’d walked in through, was a raised stage, framed by thick black velvet curtains that were held back by gold-detailed silk. The two other walls were lined with imposing looking wooden chairs, almost certainly antique.

But, for all the expense and opulence, this room _felt_ very different to everywhere else they’d been. More formal, and… _proper_. It _did_ have the feel of a school hall. In a very fancy, long standing prep school, or a school from a British period drama… somewhere with gravitas. There were only a few other people there, engaged in bored chit chat a little way into the room, their occasional footsteps echoing ominously.

And then Tony felt someone look at him, and turned to see a man in a navy blue suit, smiling at the two of them.

And walking over to them…

The real world suddenly reoccurred to him in a horrible rush. Tony realised that he had literally no memory of the walk to this room. He’d just floated here in a haze of shock, like his brain had taken one look at the utter shitshow he’d enacted and decided, _nope, I’m done for the day. _

But now he realised that they were here for a reason. That they had a cover story to maintain… that he really _had_ just gone on a surreal, ten-minute rant at Steve-

About being _left out_.

And now that he remembered doing it… he still couldn’t _believe_ he’d done it. He couldn’t imagine what on earth would possess him to do something like that, where it even come from. Why, of _all_ the things he could’ve said, he’d chosen to tell Steve he’d felt left out.

_Left out._

And he hadn’t meant to say it. He couldn’t _stop_ himself from saying it. That thought grew more unnerving with every second-

Until suit man was right in front of them, and Tony finally registered that he had to work right now.

“Hi, it’s Steve and Tony, right?” The man asked, extending a friendly hand. Tony was the first to take it.

“Jesus, we’ve only been here a day – I can’t have earned us a reputation yet, surely?” Didn’t quite come out in Tony’s normal voice… but natural sounding enough, which was miraculous under the circumstances.

“No, nothing like that!” The man assured him, with a warm laugh. “I’m one of the hosts here at The Facility. I try to keep track of the new arrivals – we don’t get all that many, each week. I’m Dev, by the way.” And he offered his hand to Steve.

Tony, meanwhile, was trying to re-piece their plan on the fly. Trying to remember what they’d come here for, why he’d wanted to speak to the staff-

_And what the fuck was the Jimmy thing about? Where did that come from-_

“So, how’re you finding it?” Dev asked, amiably.

“Er, well, it’s lovely here, obviously…and, yeah, it’s…” _Come on brain, basic conversation, you can do this…_

“A bit overwhelming?” Dev guessed, with a kind smile. Tony sighed.

“Yeah, a bit.” He agreed, grateful for the intervention.

“Perfectly normal, I assure you” Dev looked between Tony and Steve as he spoke. “In fact, I’m pleased you dropped by this evening. We like to give people a few days to find their feet, but after that one of us would’ve reached out anyway, just to see if you have any questions – almost everyone does, when they’re settling in.”

“And what exactly is this evening?” Tony asked – because he was still trying to remember what questions he’d prepared, before his little meltdown. What it was okay for him to be curious about, and what he was supposed to know already, and that uncomfortably broad category of topics where he couldn’t be sure either way. “The woman who told us about it called it an assembly.” Dev laughed, good naturedly, at that.

“Yes, it does have that feel to it.” He smiled. “But, to answer your question, sometimes one of us will do a formal presentation” He gestured to the stage. “If there are a few people here. But, to be honest, it’s looking like it’ll probably just be the two of you tonight, so I can just take you through a bit of basic information, and then see what you want to ask about?” As he was speaking, he was gesturing to one of the women in the room, who then went over to flick a switch on the wall. One of the wooden panels began to slide upwards, concealing itself in the wall as it revealed a large, white screen. And then Dev gestured for them to follow him over to it. 

Tony could feel everyone’s eyes on them as they walked, and realised that the few other people in the room must all be employees… that had an ominously, out-numbered feeling to it, however pleasantly everyone was smiling…

But he ignored that, and made himself look up to where an image of a lush, green landscape was now being displayed on the screen. When he looked back, Dev was holding one of those little hand held remotes, used by CEOs for PowerPoint presentations the world over… there was something laughably mundane about that, but Tony ignored that too.

“So, usually we start with a little summary of The Facility, a little history of the place and what we do here, all of that. And please stop me if you’ve heard all this before – but, often, the things that seem important to you when you leave aren’t the same things that seem so important when you arrive, and a lot of the time people forget to mention those sorts of details to people when they make referrals, am I right?”

Tony nodded a touch too enthusiastically.

“They’re not being secretive; they’ve just forgotten that those things feel very important when you first get here.” Dev assured. “And we understand that, so, a few things you may be wondering about.” He pointed back up at the screen. “For a start, as you may have gathered, we’re not on earth – I hope you were prepared for at least that much?”

This time they both nodded too enthusiastically.

“Well, where you actually are is a planet we call New Eden – for obvious reasons.” And Dev flicked through a few more images, of unspoiled tropical bays under sparking mauve skies, and vast green meadows full of unfamiliar flowers. “The founder of The Facility is actually from earth, and I kid you not, his name actually _is_ Adam” He looked back at Tony, who flashed the indulging smile he’d used for a million unfunny corporate jokes. “He came here with a research team, following a theory that innovative new drugs could be made from the unique natural resources here. And, when he arrived, he found that the local population were indeed incredibly advanced in the field of intoxicants and pharmaceuticals, even though they weren’t much more advanced than us in other respects.”

Tony felt Steve suddenly stiffen, and stand up straighter. When he turned to look, he saw that Steve was glancing back toward the doors, his brow creased in concentration. And then Steve turned back, and realised that Tony was looking at him, and before Tony could ask, he said,

“Can you give me a minute?” And just like that he was walking, purposefully, away from them and out of the room…

_…Well, that was odd_.

“Is he okay?” Dev asked, gently. And Tony realised he had far too much to juggle, having to play-act in front of Dev and still trying not to have a breakdown over his earlier breakdown… he just didn’t have space left to wonder about that too.

“He’s fine – he does that, just, goes off sometimes…” Tony muttered, pointedly turning towards the screen again. “It’s fine, I’ll catch him up. Carry on.”

Dev smiled politely, and continued.

“Adam’s research team worked with the local population, to produce drugs that were effective on humans – some recreational, some medicinal. And all initial trials here on New Eden were phenomenally successful, in both categories, and Adam was hugely optimistic when he brought the final products back to earth.” Dramatic pause. “Where they had no effect what-so-ever”

And Tony pulled the necessary expressions, _oh no, how surprising, do go on_.

“It turned out that there is an underlying intoxicating effect that occurs simply from being _on_ New Eden.” Dev announced it almost proudly, he was so delighted in telling this part of the story. “An effect that we had assumed was as side effect of substances that people were taking, which is in fact just something in the air and the water.”

Tony stood up straighter then. A loud, piercing alarm sounded in his head. His brain helpfully supplied the question, _the what what in the what and the what?_ Which he would’ve said out loud, if he weren’t too stunned to speak.

_There’s something in the air and the water._

_Steve and I are undercover on an alien planet that is literally drugging us._

“But, please don’t be alarmed.” Dev soothed – because Tony had gone as white as a sheet, he could feel he had. “I know, it’s not exactly a comforting thought, _there’s something in the water_, but it’s not nearly as severe as that makes it sound.”

“No?” Tony asked, robotically.

“No.” Dev laughed kindly. “It’s not like there’s ecstasy in the reservoir, or that you can get high on the air. It’s actually very trace levels of completely natural minerals which, over time, can have an almost imperceptible effect on a person’s mood and physiology.”

“Almost imperceptible.”

“Well, for the first day or so, you’re unlikely to feel any effect at all, as it won’t have had time to build up in your system. After about a week, your body adapts to it, and you’re unlikely to notice the background effect at all – what’s interesting about the effect of the atmosphere is really how it interacts with other substances.”

“But, uh, in the bit in between – after day two and before the end of the week?” Tony pressed, trying not to sound too agitated.

“It may be that you feel a little unsettled, for a few moments at a time. You may feel a bit more emotional, for short periods.” Dev conceded. “Or, that you’re aware of a lack of inhibition – you may find yourself feeling more relaxed, more open, you may find yourself talking more, or speaking more quickly… All of which is perfectly normal, and will pass.”

“Right.” Tony breathed, trying to think over his pounding heartbeat.

“And, if I may, one of the best ways of dealing with that initial stage is with the right supplementary substances…” Dev added, gesturing cautiously back to his screen. And Tony nodded automatically, _go on._

And he tried to listen to Dev explain the background to some of these drugs, the brief history of their discovery, their use by the locals… Tony was sure all of that was on his list, when he’d decided to come to this meeting in the first place.

But his brain was momentarily stuck on the idea that he and Steve were essentially being dosed with a truth serum – or a speech serum, at least, because Tony still wasn’t convinced that any of what he’d said _was_ the truth about how he felt… But whether he fully understood the effects of this planet, he just knew that he was living through them, that he’d just experienced first-hand the ‘more open, more relaxed, lack of inhibition’ that Dev was sugar coating. The _planet_ was doing that to him… And, as much as it should’ve been a relief to have an explanation, it was mainly just terrifying to think it could happen again...

“So, any questions about the history of the drugs?” Dev asked, cheerfully.

_Yes. Is this actually hell?_

“Er, no, I don’t think so.” Tony mumbled. And then he heard familiar footsteps echoing behind him, as Steve walked back over to join the discussion.

“Sorry.” He muttered, as he took his place next to Tony, and looked up at the screen.

“Not at all – I was just about to explain the different drugs we’ve developed _here_, and what they actually do.”

And Tony warned himself to pay attention. That, now more than ever, he had to know as much as possible about the drugs in this place.

That this really wasn’t the time to be thinking about how he was going to break that news to Steve.

*

Steve hadn’t heard a single word Dev said to either of them. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you the guys name.

Steve had been too busy being _devastated_, all evening.

Fragments of Tony’s outburst kept replaying in his head. Little observations and recollections kept leaping in, out of nowhere. And he did try to think over the top of them, at least at the beginning – but it was like trying to ignore a knife in his heart. It was hard to _breathe_ over the constant onslaught of horrible thoughts, much less strategize.

And, to be perfectly honest, the undercover mission didn’t seem nearly as important as this. Even when he reminded himself that lives could be at stake, that _they_ were in real danger if they were discovered by the wrong people – even then, the absolute tragedy of this revelation took precedence.

_Tragedies_. Plural.

Because, for one… Tony was right. Steve had never put himself in Tony’s shoes… not like _that_. And when Tony was describing a scenario in which he’d kept all those secrets from _him_… Steve had to admit, there was a sharp stab of hurt, just at the thought of it. And with that, the realisation that he really hadn’t thought about it like that before, and God, he felt terrible for that…

But nowhere near as bad as he felt at the thought that he’d _hurt_ Tony like that.

And he really _hadn’t_ known.

He’d thought that Tony was angry with him, for the risks he took and the mistakes he’d made and the secrets he’d kept.

He’d thought that Tony objected when he hadn’t told him about his parents because he had a right to know, because it’d been disrespectful and dangerous to keep to from him.

He’d though that Tony begrudged the consequences Steve had left him to deal with.

…He’d thought Tony was upset in _principle._

It’d never occurred to him that Tony’s _feelings_ would’ve been hurt by the way Steve acted – not like _that_. He knew that he’d…Of course, Tony would be…but, not like _that_.

…It’d never occurred to him that Tony would _care_ what any of them thought of him. He’d never imagined the great Tony Stark giving a moment’s thought to Steve… not like… that…

He’d had no idea that they’d even really had a relationship, in Tony’s mind. He’d thought it was all in _his_ head. Tony Stark had never needed anything from Steve, never wanted anything from him, never had a personal problem Steve could help with or any reason to be in awe of _him_ – he’d made that perfectly clear from day one. And Steve could only be in awe of Tony from a distance, because if Tony had known some of the ways in which Steve admired him, then life in The Tower would’ve become just too complicated for Steve to cope with. Steve could never let on that there were things he _did_ want from Tony. As far as Steve knew, he’d always been a team mate to Tony. Not a friend like Rhodey was a friend, or Happy, or Pepper. He hoped he’d eventually become someone Tony liked well enough. Someone he’d be nice to – mostly, because he was nice. Someone he would die to protect… because Tony Stark would die to protect a total stranger. Someone who, unbeknownst to Tony, watched longingly from the back of the room while he worked, sometimes…

But not someone who had the power to hurt his feelings like that.

And the thought that, maybe, Tony _had_ come to see Steve as a real friend…

That Tony had a _real_ friend do that to him…

That Tony might have been _personally_ hurt by what he did…

Steve had spent most of the evening thinking he might actually be sick.

He had never hated _anyone_ as much as he hated himself right now.

At no point did it occur to him that, even for an event this emotionally charged, his reaction was perhaps a _bit_ strong…

And then the evening had just melted away from him, and before he knew it he was following Tony back down the same corridor, in the same dull haze.

And then they were back in their room, like no time had passed at all.

Tony looked at him, his eyes wide and shining, his chest high and tight-

And Steve suddenly realised he’d being doing everything all wrong.

He’d _thought_ he was just trying to earn Tony’s trust back. That he had to prove to Tony that he wasn’t as bad as that outcome had made it seem. He’d thought he was supposed to be slowly rebuilding this team. And now he thought of Tony being _hurt, _and him just ignoring it and making stupid comments about the food and the décor-

_Can you imagine how that would feel Steve? Do you think you’d feel like making small talk with me right now?_

Oh, Jesus, he was an idiot.

He should’ve said something.

He _had_ to say something. Even if it was going to be difficult. and confrontational, and even if he still didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth, he _had_ to. He couldn’t let anything-

“So, um, it turns out that we’re both actually kinda on drugs.” Tony announced, somewhat uncomfortably.

…And, okay. _That_ was probably something he could let interrupt him.

“We’re – sorry, we’re what?”

“So, okay.” Tony exhaled, dropping his eyes. “It _turns out_, that, uh, according to Dev, this whole planet has a kind of… intoxicating effect. Like, it’s in the air and the water. Not a major effect, and nothing long term, and it, er, mainly gets to you when you first arrive… so, um, now…”

“…What kind of effect?” Steve asked, nervously.

“So, he said it might make us feel uncomfortable, and – well, moody, basically.” Tony began. And then paused, ominously. “And it might make us more – well, his exact words were relaxed, open and _talkative_, I think…”

A cold shiver ran up Steve’s back.

“And I’d like to make clear – he did _not_ say it was like a truth serum or anything” Tony explained.

_Oh God, no._

Steve reacted instinctively – he actually took a little step back. He knew his shock and horror was probably completely clear on his face-

But Jesus, taking a truth serum in front of Tony Stark was literally his worst nightmare.

He hadn’t realised just how deep a fear that was, until he was faced with it. And, suddenly, Steve couldn’t process anything Tony was saying, because the mention of those two little words had sent Steve into a fight-or-flight state of response.

_Danger. Danger. Danger._

_Get out of this situation, now_

“I think it’s more like, when you’re a bit drunk – if you can even remember being drunk – and sometimes you just come out with things… Not necessarily _true_ things even, and… My point is, Vodka’s not a truth serum either. I think it just makes you a bit more talkative, like that…”

But Steve was too busy remembering _why_ this had always been his worst nightmare. All the things that he might _just come out with_, if he was under the influence of something.

_If I just blurt out something about it not being Bucky’s fault_

_If I try to explain why I did it, and end up telling him I love him_

_If I end up telling him he’s fucking gorgeous in that suit-_

And then Steve was doing what everyone does, when faced with a truth serum or a mind reader – he was thinking specifically of the things he’d be _most_ mortified to say out loud.

“…which _might _explain the little…_monologue_ earlier” Tony went on, a dusky blush deepening over his cheeks

_You’re so pretty when you blush._

_Would you blush, if I fucked you-_

_Keep your mouth shut. Keep your damn mouth shut. _

“…I don’t really know _how else_ to explain it, because, I… I _really_ don’t know where any of that came from.” And he forced himself to look up at Steve, and Steve had to bite his lip, he was so scared he’d say something he could never take back. “I just… _said it_, it wasn’t even in my head _first_, I can’t even… explain really. I’m just – sorry.” He sighed. “And, I was wondering if I could play the alien-sex-planet-drug-fucked card and maybe we can just pretend that never happened?”

_Oh…Tony…_

Steve still _so_ wanted to talk to Tony about all of that. He still felt like he had to say something now, that if he let it go _now_-

Oh, but he couldn’t talk about _this_ now…

“Yeah, okay” He whispered, sadly, “I mean, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to…”

_Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking._

Tony look a sharp little breath, and pinched his lips together. And nodded.

_Oh, Tony, I have hurt you, I know I have, and I’m so sorry, and I really never meant for that to happen, I’d do anything to take it back, I love you-_

Steve had to get out of this situation before he said something.

“Where did you go earlier, by the way?” Tony asked abruptly. Steve just blinked at him.

“…earlier?”

“When Dev was telling me all about the proud history of drug harvesting, you ran off somewhere?” Tony prompted. And even then, Steve had to struggle to find the memory. It’d seemed fairly insignificant at the time, much less when there was all this in his head.

“Oh, yeah, earlier, when we were in one of the bars, I saw a woman I think works here, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t human” Steve reported back, talking too fast. “And, I saw her again in the hallway, and I thought I’d try to ask her who she was – I don’t know why really, I just… ‘cos she’s the only non-human I’ve seen, and I couldn’t figure out what her job was, or… I don’t know, I guess I was going to ask her… she wasn’t there when I got out there, anyway.”

“An alien?” Tony frowned, interested. Steve felt his gut tighten. After all these hours – _months_ – of trying desperately to start a conversation with Tony, now he was frantically trying to think of the quickest way to shut this down.

“I think so.” Steve nodded. “I mean, she looked _kind of_ human…but not quite.”

“Might be worth looking into” Tony mused, thoughtfully. “Maybe we should go looking for her tomorrow… actually, it might be worth trying to find out some more about the local population…”

Steve nodded again, his mind focussing on the word _tomorrow._

_Not now._

_I just have to get out of this for now._

“Yeah, sounds like a plan…” He muttered, and then, in pure desperation, he added, “I’m sorry, I’m just suddenly really tired.”

“Yeah, me too, actually.” Tony agreed far too quickly “It’s been a really long day…” And they both pointedly did not look at the clock, because if they did they’d have to acknowledge that it was probably about nine thirty.

“Okay…so, I’ll see you tomorrow, and then we’ll go alien hunting.” Steve concluded, weakly, already walking passed him.

“Sounds great.” Tony replied, thinly. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Steve repeated, as he retreated into the bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, that had been the longest night of Tony’s life.

He’d _collapsed_ into the couch the moment he’d heard the bedroom door click behind Steve – and there he had stayed for the next nine hours. Thinking… trying to think… trying _not _to think… It was by far the most exhausting experience he’d ever endured. And he hadn’t even moved.

He’d started the same way Steve had; by coming up with as many embarrassing, creepy things he would not want to say in front of Steve as possible. That had lasted a fair few hours.

And then, as he was thinking up another niche sexual fantasy that would _never_ have occurred to him otherwise, the wider implications began to occur to him again. He started to remember _why_ he was suddenly fighting mental images of Steve in rubber.

That he and Steve were literally being drugged by the very air they were breathing.

…That he’d _already_ said something skin-crawlingly humiliating.

And he tried not to think about it. He flinched away from it, physically screwing his face up every time a random line came back to him, trying to shout over the top of it with desperate rationalisations – _it’s not my fault, Steve said we could pretend it never happened, it’s not the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done_.

But he couldn’t outrun it forever.

He’d broken down, and told Steve he felt _left out_. The most childish, entitled, _pathetic_ comment he could possibly have pulled from the whole fucking debacle. And he’d had so many other points! Polished, practiced points that he’d carefully perfected over the last two years. Points about accountability and fairness and trust – grown up points, about professional behaviour and personal ethics. Instead of which, he’d chosen to whine about not being invited to Steve’s little team of Super Friends.

Well, no, he’d not _chosen_ to say that. It’d just come out of his mouth.

…Did he really think that?

_Were _those the words for that sharp, bitter pain that crawled through him, when he remembered Steve walking away from him? Was that why he kept thinking back to the raft, and then immediately shaking the memory away, before he could really think about it?

…Was he just hurt, because he was the only one on the team that no one seemed to care about?

…_Were_ all his polished, political arguments really just a justification for that?

…Had _he_ ever thought about it, from Steve’s point of view?

That last observation came out of nowhere. Another thought he’d pulled up, to drown out the memory of himself monologuing about a guy named Jimmy. An argument that melted into the images he was running from, in the most horrible way.

_Can you imagine how that would feel Tony? Have you ever thought of it that way, before?_

And he thought… If he’d woken up in a distant and alien future, having lost literally everyone he’d ever known, and then found out that Rhodey was alive somewhere, the subject of inhumane experimentation… If he’d _known_ that Rhodey was innocent of a crime, and thought he had no hope of a fair hearing… If Steve had gone after Rhodey in that sort of temper…

_I wouldn’t have lied to Steve about looking for Rhodey, though. I wouldn’t have kept it from Steve, if Rhodey had killed his parents,_

Tony thought, petulantly. Even putting himself in Steve’s position like that hadn’t led him to empathise with _that_ decision…

_You have lied to Pepper, though. And Rhodey. When you were panicked, and put on the spot, when you thought you were protecting them or you’d convinced yourself you could handle it on your own or you were just hoping you could fix it all before anyone found out…_

_Yeah, and maybe it would be okay, if Steve came out and said that’s why he did any of it. If he said he was sorry, like I said I was sorry, all those times… He doesn’t even feel bad for it, he doesn’t even think it was a mistake, he’s waiting for me to work out why he was right-_

And so it was that Tony found himself curled up in a ball on the couch at three in the morning, soaked through with misery and feeling trapped inside his own head. Veering wildly between bitter self-justification and aching self-doubt, not sure whether he was angry or insecure… and it occurred to him that he had the perfect word for this.

And he didn’t like the word.

And he wished he hadn’t thought of the word.

But there was no escaping how well it fit –

He did, in fact, feel _hormonal._

He could suddenly empathise with his teenage self for the first time in thirty years. He _remembered_ the spikes of rage and sheet depth of injustice that he’d not felt since then… The internal logic of irrational emotions, the sheer pace of his thoughts… So _this_ was why he’d cried in anger at his fathers stupid putdowns, and lost so many nights sleep just thinking about his failings, and all those other things that seemed so nonsensical after they passed. But of course, it all made perfect sense when he felt like _this_.

He’d hated the word _hormonal_, even then. It was an inherently dismissive, subtly mocking word. Uniquely capable of reducing the most cutting and personal of feelings to a punchline for someone else’s joke. A ready-made excuse for anyone he asked to consider his feelings or listen to his point of view. He wanted to rebel against that word, even now. Even when _he_ was the lofty adult, telling himself that he wasn’t in his right mind and that these feelings would pass… He wanted to yell back at himself, _you don’t understand._

God, he hated himself. He hated himself for never having put himself in Steve’s shoes before now, he hated how it made him feel when it did. He hated how familiar this feeling was – that sinking realisation that, however angry he was, however much it hurt… nope, it probably _was_ him that was the asshole. He felt as much like a perpetual fuck up as he had when he was sixteen, and he felt it just as viscerally. He hated himself for being the one person that no one liked and he hated himself for caring what anyone else thought and he hated himself for _still_ wishing that Steve cared about him, even now. He felt pathetic, and needy, and embarrassed.

And he hated Steve. He hated Steve for not being sorry – for not even giving Tony an excuse to forgive him. He hated Steve for _always_ making him feel like this, for the fact that Tony would never be good enough for Steve, for the fact that he simply _couldn’t_ earn the level of respect and trust that Steve could apparently never lose. He even hated Steve a little bit for letting it go tonight – and yes, he knew he’d told Steve to let it go and he would probably have hated Steve for _not_ letting it go… He’d established that he was being irrational, okay? And part of it was the little splinter of hurt, that he’d poured his heart out to Steve like that, and Steve had just looked at him.

Because he loved Steve. That night Tony loved Steve with all the pain and passion of a first crush. He loved his smile, and his sweetness, and his endless, puppy-like determination. He loved entirely arbitrary things about him, the way he pinched his lips when he was reading and the fact that he put the milk in before the coffee and the hint of a Brooklyn accent that still edged some of his words – for no reason other than they were _Steve_.

And he hated himself, for still loving Steve.

And he hated Steve, for not loving him back.

And he hated the world, for the fact that he could never make Steve love him back, for the unfairness of it. Knowing that however hard he tried, Steve just didn’t care about him-

And he hated himself, for blaming Steve for it.

Of all the things that occurred to him during that long and painful night, that was perhaps the worst. The slow, sad understanding that he really was just hurt because Steve didn’t care about him. Whatever proper sounding, principled points he had… he probably _would_ have let them all go, if it weren’t for that. And, as much as it sucked, as unfair as it seemed – he couldn’t really hold any of them responsible for just not liking him. Especially by 4am, when he’d realised how unlikeable he really was.

He _wished_ he’d never told Steve he felt that way. He wished he could bury all of it, act as if he’d never thought it, erase that scene from a narrative he now wanted to shape another way.

By the time he’d drifted into sleep, he was somewhere between wishing they’d never come to this place and wishing he’d never been born. His deepest regrets and most painful memories melted into his dreams, until he was trapped in a world built of his own anxiety. The images of Germany and Siberia, The Tower and The Compound, all blended together. The angry words they’d shouted at each other echoing in the background, out of context, or over the wrong scenes.

He and Steve standing in the Bunker, while his parent’s final moments flickered in the darkness. And Steve just looking at him – _big man in a suit of armour, take that away and what are you?_

Him lying on the floor of an Afghan cave, the hot bite of the wires pressing into his heart. And then Steve, and Wanda, and Pietro all bursting in – _I’m gonna say this once. Shut it down_.

Walking alongside Rhodey at the therapy centre, feeling the grip on his wrist suddenly tighten as Rhodey stumbled. Dev, standing behind them in a white coat, explaining – _we have a drug that can help with that too. We call this one Ambiance, it’s been shown to reduce the initial anxiety by up to 50%._

Tony woke up with a sharp gasp, his forehead filmed in sweat.

He’d just worked out what was so wrong with everything Dev had said.

*

Steve knew Tony was awake by six that morning.

He could hear him pacing, his bare feet occasionally padding past the bedroom door on his erratic tours of the suite – Steve could picture him doing it. Walking in sharp, jagged patterns, gesticulating as though he was explaining the theories to an audience in his head. Sometimes running his one hand through his hair, so that it all cascaded into his eyes again…

Steve thought about getting up then. It wouldn’t even have been ‘getting up’, really; Steve had just been sitting on the edge of his bed all night. Part of him was dying to leave his self-imposed solitary confinement, to face the unbearable tension that he could feel building on the other side of that door. Part of him _always _wanted to run to Tony, however bad he knew it would be when he got there…. The little part of him that was always waiting to be with Tony, whatever else he was doing…

But he still hadn’t made his decision. _The_ decision.

Steve had started this endless night with the same panicked noise in his head as Tony, at the mercy of a similar mix of emotions. And, like Tony, Steve had dealt with it by reverting to form, immediately falling back on the coping mechanisms and personal habits that had been there since _he_ was a teenager.

Steve didn’t spiral, the way Tony had. Steve had _never_ spiralled like that.

For a start – Steve had never had the luxury. Every time Steve had been faced with a complete crisis of self, or had his entire perception of reality shaken… which happened _a lot_, now that he thought about it… and every time, in the middle of a catastrophe. Every. Single. Time.

When he first found out that SHIELD had been infiltrated by Hydra, that his bosses and colleagues and _friends_ had conspired to undermine everything he’d sacrificed his entire life to protect… there hadn’t been _time_ to spiral, because by then Hydra were already chasing him. And, when he’d found out that his best friend had been tortured and brainwashed, and forced to murder the parents of the man Steve loved – oh, and a close personal friend of both of them, going back seventy years, by the way – Hydra were _still_ chasing him. And holding a gun to the head of everyone on earth. And literally in the middle of bombing him, at the exact moment he found all that out.

And when he first woke up in the 21st Century, and hadn’t known whether to panic about the strange new world he was in or grieve the death of every single person he’d ever known – and in the end he hadn’t gotten to do either, because a Norse God had stolen the Tesseract and New York was full of aliens. And he had been brought in specifically to deal with that threat, he was there to _be_ Captain America… And Captain America had to be sure. Captain America was a leader. Captain America probably wouldn’t be so completely thrown, just because the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his _life_ had walked in and made a reference he didn’t understand… but, if he _had_ been, he would certainly have set it aside, and focussed on the important things. Steve would’ve been killed then, if he’d spiralled. Maybe everyone would have.

And when he first stepped out of that container, feeling like he was walking on stilts and not knowing where his limbs ended and worried he might be dying because it felt so strange to _breathe_… and wondering, for just a moment, if he’d made a horrible mistake… And then Erskine had been shot and there was someone to chase, so the new legs just had to work, and that was that.

Even before he became Captain America, he still hadn’t had the option of running away with his emotions. To be perfectly fair… no one did, back then. Teenagers had only just been invented when Steve became one, and they came in one of two types: the good kids, and the bad kids. Adults didn’t _even_ roll their eyes and call kids hormonal, in the forties – kids didn’t even get that much leeway. He was expected to fit the same roles as everyone else, adhere to the same behaviour, accept what it said about him as a person if he didn’t… Everything came in categories, in the forties. You were a Good American, and you ticked all of those clearly defined boxes – or you didn’t. Everyone had the same ambitions in life, the same hopes for the country, the same definition of Freedom and Truth and Right. Everyone wanted the same sort of family and the same sort of job and the same retirement. There wasn’t a word for people who wanted something different…. Well, unless there _was_, and then it was a word you didn’t say in public…

If Steve had ever wanted to scream about the injustice of it all, or cry at the unfairness of life, or spend a whole night wondering if he was the worst human being who’d ever lived… he’d have been given the same answer as any other kid on his street. _Focus up_. Remember the rules, remember the things you have to be, if you don’t want to be bad. Act like the Good American acts in every movie ever made, say the things you are supposed to – do your damn job.

_Get over yourself_.

_Be a man._

And it was that mentality that had gotten him through when he’d woken up in the future, when he’d seen the sky open up over New York, when he found out what Bucky had been through, when he realised his whole world was a lie… The same mentality that had gotten him through the horrors of war, and losing Bucky the first time around, and the over-whelming head fuck of becoming Captain America in the first place…

It was that mentality that he’d fallen back into last night. A hard stop on the noise in his head, a plain refusal to think about the doubt and the guilt and the things that weren’t helpful. He would _not_ lose his mind over this situation – he couldn’t. He had to stay focused, and think what he was going to _do_. How he felt about it would have to come later.

But, as he’d sat there putting everything into boxes, there was that _other_ thing, seeping into the cracks. That little voice that kept whispering in the background of everything. That constant question, at every stage of his plan – _are you sure you’re not thinking about the wrong thing entirely…?_

He tried so hard to think about what to _do_, in the next few days… what would be in the interests of the mission, what, ultimately, would be the _sensible_ way to handle things with Tony…

But somewhere, all night, he’d wondered…

Was he just not _brave_ enough, to spiral?

Was he just refusing to think about all these twisted, bitter feelings because he didn’t want to? Because it would be confusing, and frightening, and because he didn’t _want_ to end up curled in a ball, hating himself…

_Are you sure that hasn’t been the problem, all along…?_

And he _tried_ to ignore all those queasy doubts, in the way they all did, when they were trying to win a war.

He _made_ himself think all the things Captain America would think, as though that would _make_ him Captain America.

He had spent the last nine hours trying to take his feelings out of it. That’s all it was. Nine hours of ‘organising his thoughts’ and ‘setting his priorities’ and ‘planning for possible outcomes’… _trying to be sensible_… it was all just him trying to think of what he would do, if he didn’t feel like this. Having to go through every possible angle, reframe and rebrand everything, push things into the background, all because he couldn’t trust himself to just open that door and _speak_. He couldn’t just _be_, because all the things he really was at that moment weren’t the right things, and he knew it.

_…and you’re quite sure that this isn’t you just running away from what you think?_

_…and what you’ve done?_

_…and who you are, really?_

_They were wrong about a lot of things in the 40s, you know…_

So, by the morning, he’d managed to boil all of his thoughts and fears into one question. He’d managed to simplify it all into a single choice.

He _could_ go with the tried and tested approach that’d gotten him through at least five potential apocalypses. The things he’d been taught as a child, and therefore came naturally. The _sensible_ approach to the circumstances as he found them… He _could_ put aside the personal, emotional stuff between he and Tony – with the complete intention of talking about it when they got home, of course – and decide to behave professionally. He could decide not to even think about the more difficult issues until he could be sure he was in his right mind – until he could be sure they wouldn’t be ambushed because he was busy crushing on Tony Stark.

Or…he _could_ try something else, for the first time in his life. Since doing the same damn thing for seventy years had only led him here. Since, really, he _knew_ that this approach had cost him as much as it had saved him… maybe more…. Seeing as he knew, deep down, that pretending things were simple had never stopped them being complicated. Pretending to be sure had never made him sure – it had never made him right, after the fact. So, he _could_ just try being honest, for once. With himself. With Tony. He could _try_ breaking down, just once. He could admit to himself that he was scared and confused and not sure he liked himself very much. He could admit to Tony that he was sorry, he could just tell Tony that he still didn’t support the Accords and he still didn’t blame Bucky – but that he loved Tony anyway, with every inch of his being. What would happen if he did all that? Would the world really end?

…Well, actually. It might.

If either of them broke down, or lost their temper, or were _really_ shaken by something that got said. And, in the spirit of being honest…

Well, they didn’t even _have_ to be on an alien drug planet for that to fuck up the whole world, now did they?

Super villains the world over had worked out that no one could outsmart the Avengers, or out run them, or out Hulk them – but it was surprisingly easy to make them fight each other. Loki had tried to turn them on each other, and damn near managed it. Wanda had used their personal demons and interpersonal problems as a distraction, and that was how ULTRON had gotten as far as Sokovia. Zemo hadn’t even _had_ a wider plan – he’d just told them to punch each other, and they had. And, thanks to _that_, the whole team and broken up and Thanos had come to within an Infinity Stone of snapping them out of existence.

_So_, it really wasn’t so unlikely that he and Tony could end up in a fight _here_ of all places. And they still didn’t even know what The Facility might use that distraction to do. Kidnap them. Kill them. Yes, maybe even end the world.

_But… did you ever think that all those other fights that nearly ended the world might’ve been avoided if-_

So, the point was, he’d boiled it down to one of two choices.

Go out there and act like Captain America. Ignore the churning guilt, avoid talking about anything personal, focus on getting the job done.

Or, go out there and _try_ to be Steve Rogers. Tell Tony he’d been up all night thinking about this, and he still didn’t know what he thought, but he knew he was sorry and he just wanted to make this right.

And that meant he’d spent all night thinking and not really gotten anywhere at all, now didn’t it?

And then, as so often happened – Tony made the choice for him.

“Hey Cap, you awake?” He called, from outside the door. Steve held his breath. He hadn’t meant to, but… Tony called him _Cap._

…And he was talking in a different tone now. An interested, animated tone… Not friendly, but not exactly unfriendly either. Not the warm voice he’d once used, when he raced to share some new theory with Steve – but not the cool, closed off voice he’d been using since Thanos. The same voice he might’ve used in an SI meeting, or in front of a group of MIT students.

_That’s a start… Right?_

_…is that a start?_

“Yeah, I’m up. One minute” Steve called back. He stood up, and ran his fingers through his hair, and smoothed down yesterdays T-shirt. He took a deep breath.

Every muscle in his body was tensed as he finally left the bedroom, not sure what it was bracing for. But when he got to the living room Tony wasn’t even looking at him. He was too immersed in the papers he had spread out on the coffee table.

Steve felt his body soften. Like he’d just stumbled on a magic little fragment of time that stood sperate from everything else.

It wasn’t just that Tony happened to look so beautiful, with his hair falling forward into his eyes like that, and his lips pursed in thought. It was that he looked so very _Tony_ in that moment. And, watching him like that, seeing the familiar shape of his body and that little flicker of thought in his eyes… For a few seconds, Steve just _felt_. And it didn’t even matter that he didn’t know what these feelings were, or what they said about him, or that they were nothing to do with the mission-

And then Tony looked up at him.

And Steve’s body tensed again.

“So, I have a theory.” Tony announced, before Steve could say anything. Steve could see the way he thought ahead of what he was saying, the way his eyes kept darting back to the papers, like the back of his head was still working on it, even as he was talking to Steve. Steve remembered the speedy, animated patter of his voice when he talked this way, he knew that any minute now Tony was going to take a little step back and open his arms, like he was at the beginning of a presentation.

_God, I love you._

_I love everything you are._

_And I don’t even know what I want from you, I don’t know how to be with you – but I know I want you, more than anything_…

And if he said that?

_Well, actually, Tony was about to explain the theory that would’ve saved us all… but, no, I chose that moment to derail us completely, so…. A thousand people dead, you say?_

“A theory?” Steve repeated weakly.

And Tony took a little step back.

And opened his arms.

_And he’s going to say “Okay, so-”_

“Okay. So. I was thinking.” And he gestured back to the papers, because he didn’t have a hologram to point at. “What was so weird about all the things Dev said yesterday?”

_I don’t know._

_I was too busy listing all the horrors I would gladly endure to take back the hurt I’ve caused you._

_Oh, God, please be a hypothetical question._

“And, then I realised”

_Oh, thank God._

“What was weird was that it didn’t sound weird, at the time. It sounded _familiar_, the way he was talking. I’ve listened to so many _scientists_, and _engineers_, talk like that – the way he was citing percentages and relevant comparisons and control groups. It was exactly like listening to a scientist explain this place, after _running the right tests_.”

“Okay, but… I mean, surely they _have_ run tests on all these drugs? They’ve been running trials and things to develop them in the first place – isn’t that what Dev was saying?” _Please let that be right…_

“No, I mean, he was talking about this place as if it _is_ the test.” Tony tried to explain again. “I _mean_… okay, so, you remember he was talking about the drugs we could take if we wanted to combat the natural effect of the atmosphere?”

_No_

“Yeah.”

“And he said that we should try taking Ambience and, um, Tranquil, Tranquilly, whatever the fuck stupid name they gave it – because the effect of those drugs is directly proportional to the concentration of the ‘natural minerals’ in your system?”

“Oh, how they’re only fifty percent as, uh, potent or…yeah…” Amazingly, Steve _did_ have a vague memory of this, as it turned out “How if you’ve only got a fifty per cent concentration of… the… air and the water, in your blood?” He questioned, frowning at Tony.

He suddenly understood what Tony was getting at.

“Right!” Tony announced. “You can’t _possibly_ know the concentration of ‘air and water minerals’ in a person’s blood down to a percentage like that – not even under test conditions. People just breathe at different rates, the amount of water their body retains is down to the speed at which they drink it – if I took a sample of your blood now, by the time I’d got the results of how _concentrated_ with minerals it was, it would’ve changed. If it really _was_ an organic thing. And, even if you ran those tests in a lab, you’d have to know they’d be _meaningless_ for people just living here like this. Just too many personal variables – and that’s assuming the planet is emitting these things at a perfectly constant rate. Which is almost certainly isn’t.” And Tony stopped, and took a little breath, and pointed back down to the papers on the table again.

Steve might’ve lost his footing there, if he weren’t being so careful. He hadn’t seen Tony’s handwriting in so long. Tony almost never wrote with an actual pen – the only times he didn’t rely on holograms and tablet computers were when they were deep undercover, and he didn’t trust the WiFi… or, back in The Tower, if he’d wanted to leave a note in the breakroom. Steve hadn’t seen that erratic, sloping script since _No coffee grounds in the disposal! _Just looking at it was achingly, painfully nostalgic.

He swallowed. His throat was so tight, it hurt.

“But the thing is,” Tony continued, tracing a fingertip over one of his scrawled equations “The science itself _does_ make sense. Given the apparent chemical make up of these drugs… this _is_ how they should react, if you change the background variables by those percentages… I don’t actually think they’re making that bit up. I’m saying, the only way they could _know_ that is if they’re controlling all the dosages.” And he fixed Steve with a look, and waited for him to get it.

“_They’re_ drugging us?” Steve clarified.

“I’m pretty sure.” Tony nodded.

“But how? If it’s not in the air, or the water, and I assume putting it in the food would be the same…” Steve thought aloud. “Wouldn’t they have to give us a controlled dose, a pill or an injection or something? Wouldn’t people know if…” But he trailed off as he saw Tony shaking his head.

“Not if you were controlling the concentration in the water – not if _that_ was the variable you’re using as a comparison.” And then, when Steve frowned at him, he explained further. “Okay, so you know when Dev said, with a 25% concentration in the blood, Ambience does this, and with a 50% concentration in the blood is does that…” And he waited for Steve to nod at him. “Well, I think what he _meant_ was, when we put a 50% concentration in the _water_, the reaction is this. When the water’s only 25%, people react like that – do you see what I mean? Then it doesn’t matter if you have a slightly different concentration in your blood than mine, because you drank more or went for a jog or whatever, because that’s not the thing your comparing. You’re not _trying_ to predict the individual reactions, per se – you’re interested in the correlation between the _environmental_ control and the overall reaction to the drug… are you following me?”

And maybe Steve was still just slightly distracted by the handwriting, but…

“Not really, but I trust you.”

Tony froze.

And then he blinked, and shook it away.

“Okay.” He breathed, and then visibly collected himself, and carried on. “Also, you know how everyone in this place seems reasonably normal until about dinner time, and then all of a sudden everyone’s horny at once? I think that’s because they’re obviously changing the concentrations at different times of the day. _And_ what Vanessa was saying, about taking different drugs at different times – And you _could_ run an a trial on that in a lab, of course…”

And Steve wondered why Tony was still explaining this theory, when Steve had just said he accepted it… and he realised, it was because Tony just hadn’t expected Steve to trust him. He’d prepared all this evidence and all these arguments, because he’d _expected_ to have to convince Steve… And when that hadn’t happened, he just hadn’t known what else to do.

_Oh, Tony…_

“…So, obviously the first question is _why_.” Tony finished. “Also, if we get time today, _who_ and _how_.”

And in the end it came down to the fact that Captain America knew what he was supposed to say, and Steve Rogers didn’t. In that moment, he was actually sure he really _should_ go with option two… whatever the logic of it, he just felt in his heart that he had to tell Tony what he really thought, that no mission was more important than that…

But he didn’t know what he really felt. Not in words.

He couldn’t think how to express it, not so that he was saying what he really meant.

… He _hadn’t_ been brave enough to spiral last night. And, because he hadn’t let himself look at everything he really thought, because he’d been telling himself _not_ to think about what he’d say to Tony, now he didn’t have this option anymore.

But Captain America always knows what to say.

“If they’re dosing the water, or the air… or any other way they’re doing it, they must have a distribution system somewhere on this site.” Steve observed, his voice more assured now that Captain America was using it.

“And, almost certainly, a way to collect data” Tony added. “_And_, I think I know where they’d be doing both of those things …” He pointed to a rough little diagram of The Facility that he’d sketched out in squares “So, you know the main corridor we walked down when we went on that _awful_ tour the first night?” And he traced a finger over it, to demonstrate. “Well, just off to the left here… past the, uh, _theatre_, we looked into, there’s another corridor – and at the end of _that_, there is a locked set of stairs. And there’s some water pipes, running _up_ from underneath there – so I’m assuming those stairs go _down_ – and each of those pipes as a little pump attached.”

“To pump water _up_ from the basement”

“Which is obviously a stupid way to do it – but that obviously _isn’t_ where the main water supply here is, because if you follow the other pipes, _they’re _all leading up to tanks in the roof”

“Which is where you’d think the main water supply would be coming from” Steve agreed. “So, they’re pumping something _else_ up from there.”

“And I think we need to go down and have a look.” Tony finished his little presentation, triumphantly. And Steve nodded.

“But is there any point in doing that now?” Captain America asked. Because, personally, Steve might’ve preferred to do _all_ their investigating before the whole place started fucking – but Captain America was a grown up about these things, and – “If you think they don’t start adding this stuff until later-”

“No, we probably have to wait until they’re actually doing something down there, for it to be any use looking at it.” Tony sighed, obviously thinking the same thing Steve was.

“… So, sometime this evening, we do our best to break into the basement, and go from there?” Steve concluded. And Tony nodded.

“And, in the meantime, I’ve got to sit here and work out a bunch of highly theoretical chemical equations, so I can maybe have some idea what we’re looking for when we get there.” He explained, already sitting down in front of his papers again. “So, you can either go exploring, or sit here and watch me write equations.”

_There is nothing I would rather do in the world._

“I think staying here is safer.” Captain America reworded it for him.

*

The day had passed more pleasantly than any day since Steve and his team had come back home.

The initial awkwardness had faded in as short a time as it took Tony to become fully engrossed in his work. And then there had been those few hours, gone far too quickly, in which Steve had been able to just sit and watch him work… Like he used to, before. And yes, it was searingly painful, and there were moments when Steve really feared he might tear up, or that Tony might glance up and see exactly how bittersweet this moment was for Steve… But it was also wonderful. And Steve just wished so much-

“Okay, well, I think that’s as much as I can do on guess work” Tony exhaled, eventually, throwing his pen down with a flourish. “And it’s probably about that time….”

Steve swallowed his regret. It tasted sour.

“You got any plans for how you want to do this?” Steve asked, as they were leaving the room.

“Well, I can’t run a comprehensive scan with this” Tony gestured subtly to his watch – the most high-tech piece of equipment they’d risked smuggling in “But I’m pretty sure they just have regular old security cameras. An electromagnetic pulse should knock those out, at least for as long as we need. Breaking the lock and stealthing down to the basement is your department.”

Steve smiled, but didn’t say anything – by now, there were the sounds of other people, down past the end of the hall. So they carried on in silence, strolling through the foyer and down the main corridor, keeping up their pace until they’d reached the final room before the basement. Another ‘lounge’ by the looks of things… They both paused, as though they were considering whether to go in or turn back. Tony glanced at his watch.

“Okay” Tony whispered. “Let’s go.”

Breaking the lock wasn’t easy – it took two full-force kicks to loosen the mechanism, and even then Steve had to put a lot of effort into pulling it apart. The whole time Tony was hovering there behind him, already in fight stance, subconsciously trying to shield Steve as much as he could.

“Well, we’ll just have to hope no one heard that.” Steve whispered, as the door finally came free. He did a quick scan of the stairwell, and only once he was sure it was clear did he wave for Tony to go ahead of him, watching the corridor for threats as Tony ducked past him. And then Steve softly closed the door behind him-

And, Christ, the _smell_.

A sweet, chemical smell, like an abundance of floral soap – but _far_ too strong to be pleasant. Immediately Steve’s eyes began to water, his throat spasming with the desire to cough or gag. He felt… _dizzy_…

And maybe that wasn’t the smell…

Something in his brain told him to go back, that there was an element here they hadn’t prepared for… but his legs overruled him. They just followed Tony down the stairs. They came out at the corner of a small, low ceilinged basement, lit with naked florescent bars. The whole room was made of concrete, and contained four mismatched old office desks, on which eight top-of-the-line computers were sitting idle. There was another door at the back of the room, and Steve could just about make out the sounds of people behind it… a low murmur of industry, like the ammunitions factories at home.

“Well, this room doesn’t exactly fit the theme” Tony whispered, barely audible, as he walked over to one of the computers. Steve padded silently over to the other door, straining to listen over the scattergun tapping of the keyboard. “Basic security system. Good, but not pentagon level or anything…” And then Steve felt the door move just slightly against his ear, and realised that it was only pulled to – that, if he was _very_ careful, he could nudge it open an inch and look…

“Tony” He whispered sharply, and waved him over to see.

On the other side of the door was a much larger room, filled with rows and rows of work benches. The people sitting at them were all like the woman Steve had seen before – small, and slight, with blue tinted skin and eyes just a little too high on their faces. They were all working wearily, looking hunched and tired and thoroughly miserable, as they robotically took little handfuls of red beads from somewhere behind them, and put them in a little bowl, and ground them into dust. Two tall, muscle bound men were patrolling the room, one on the left and one on the right, walking up and down with a certain menace… like sharks circling in a tank. When Steve looked closely, he could see they both had a rifle slung over their back, and a gun on their hip.

“Like the woman you saw before?” Tony whispered. And Steve nodded.

And then Steve felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He turned his attention from the guard he’d been looking at-

To the one that had just looked right at them.

“Shit.” He hissed, slamming the door closed as he heard someone shout.

And he grabbed Tony’s wrist, and he _ran_.

*

Tony was astounded by how quickly they were at the top of the stairs again – just how easily Steve could pull Tony’s weight after him, how fucking _fast_ he could move-

By the time they got to the corridor again Tony’s heart was racing, his head swimming with the effort it took just to breathe-

_We’re being followed. We have to hide._

Tony thought frantically – they had to _hide_. Not run. He _knew_ there was nowhere to run to. He’d been here on his petulant, solitary tour that first night. He _knew_ that if they ran down the corridor, the guards would reach the top of the stairs before they made it. They’d be caught running away, and their cover would be blown. And the door to the right would just lead them to a dead end, he remembered-

_Jesus, it’s got to be the lounge._

And Tony knew, even then. There was a wry blooming of inspiration, like you feel when you first realise what the twist in the movie is going to be. Like he should’ve seen this punchline coming, _days_ ago-

But there was just no _time_-

He grabbed Steve by the hand, and tugged him through the door, purposely striding into the middle of the room in a desperate attempt to distance them both from the hallway.

People looked up at them.

And Tony felt the realisation settle in. A cold, sinking sort of resignation, as it dawned on him… He knew exactly what had to happen now. The few, frenetic thoughts that followed were more him coming to terms with the idea than coming up with it.

He knew why they looked so out of place, in this room.

He knew that those guards can’t have caught more than a fleeting glance at either of them. But if they burst into this room looking for them – as they absolutely would, any second now – and they saw two anxious, fully dressed, well known superheroes in among all the happy, fucking people… they were going to put two and two together

He knew the _only_ chance they had of blending in enough was obviously-

He heard the crash of the doors being thrown open, out there in the corridor. The sound of angry footsteps.

_Okay. I fucking get it. This is actually hell._

“I’m just sorry.” He sighed, and he threw himself into Steve, knocking him off of his feet and sending them both stumbling somewhat gracelessly into the couch behind him. He felt Steve huff out a shocked little breath, as Tony repositioned himself so that he was sitting in Steve’s lap, his legs straddling his waist –

And kissed him.

There was a single second of absolute, blinding _awfulness_, as Steve froze completely, and Tony struggled to kiss him and cringe at the same time. _Oh, please get with the program Steve. Please understand this perfectly obvious fucking plan-_

And then, apparently, Steve _did_.

Tony felt Steve just _melt_ underneath him, his lips parting under Tony’s, his hands suddenly gripping Tony’s hips-

And Tony just fell into it.

Like the floor had gone from under him, he just-

Suddenly there was _only_ Steve. The shape and warmth of Steve’s body there beneath him, the sheer strength Tony could feel pressed up against his chest, the _taste_ of him – Tony didn’t have room left to think about guards coming after them or undercover missions or seven years of complicated history between them. He couldn’t think, he could only _feel_. The caress of Steve’s hands, slowly working their way up his back now, the perfect softness of Steve’s skin under his palms, the growing ache of him rocking gently against Tony’s hips.

Tony _wanted_ him.

In the most basic, immediate way he’d ever wanted anything. It didn’t _matter_ what other issues there were. There weren’t other issues. Tony had forgotten the concept of issues. Everything had been boiled down to how good this felt and how physically he needed it and how perfectly obvious it was that he was supposed to do this.

He put his hand to the side of Steve face, running his thumb along Steve’s jaw as he tiled his head to kiss him deeper. He felt Steve’s arms pull tighter around him, pulling him closer. There was a shock of pleasure as Steve bucked up against him, a delicious friction that left a deep, aching need in its wake. Tony pulled Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth, and Steve shivered, and Tony _felt_ it in every inch of his body.

He wanted to make Steve shiver again.

He wanted to make Steve sigh, and moan, and _beg_.

He wanted every inch of this beautiful body. He wanted to see it, to taste it, to _consume _it.

He ran his hands under Steve’s shirt, an electric thrill running up his spine as he finally got to touch that perfect chest, and Steve lifted his arms to let Tony pull it up over his head. And Tony wanted to _look_. He wanted to just stare at Steve – but Steve pulled him close again, desperately, kissing him hungrily, and God, Tony couldn’t resist it – why would he resist it?

_Fuck, he’s beautiful_

_He’s perfect_

_He’s everything_

And Steve’s hands were in his hair

Those gorgeous lips

Those wonderful, broad shoulders

His arms were _impossible_

And Tony felt so safe, so excited, so _good_-

And then Steve broke the kiss to gasp for air, still holding Tony close as he threw his head back and panted.

And for a second Tony just looked at him in the same adoring way. At first, he just saw those flawless blue eyes blown wide with need and those pretty lips, parted slightly, still wet…

And then he _thought_…

…Oh…God….

And it would’ve been _so_ much better, if either of them had just ‘snapped out of it’. If Tony had suddenly realised what he was doing, and been instantly overcome with horror, the way he had been the night before.

But what actually happened was a slow, creeping realisation

…We don’t normally do this

…We probably shouldn’t be doing this

…This is going to be really bad, in a minute.

And the worst part of it all was that few minutes in the middle. That strange time when they both absolutely _did_ know what they were doing, when they just looked at one another

…Do we _have_ to stop?

…_could_ we just...?

Only to realise – they really couldn’t _just._

_Oh, fucking hell_.

“I’m so sorry” Tony blurted, as he watched the dread rise up in Steve’s eyes too. He felt Steve loosen his grip.

“God, I… didn’t-”

“It’s okay, I know” Tony cut him off, struggling awkwardly to get out of Steve’s lap. Trying desperately to hide the fact that he still had an aching hard on – although why he was bothering with that, when he was just grinding against him-

_Oh, Christ, I was grinding against him_

_I bit his lip_

_I took his fucking shirt off_ -

The detail seemed to come back to Steve at the same moment, and suddenly he was scanning the room for where Tony had thrown it.

Tony dropped his head into his hands – fuck it, why not? Why bother pretending this was anything less than agonisingly, _irreparably_ dreadful.

“Are we safe to go?” Steve mumbled, and Tony couldn’t bare to look at him as he answered.

“I have no idea, and lets just go anyway”

Maybe, if Tony was very lucky, one of the guards would shoot him in the head on the way out…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes a reference to the holocaust, as something Steve has seen that has changed his view of the world. There are no actual details or specific memories discussed.  
This chapter also makes reference to the invasion of an alien planet and the enslavement of an alien race. This is discussed as an unambiguously horrific thing that obviously must be stopped, and, again, there are no graphic details given. 
> 
> Also, if anyone has any suggestions for how to accurately tag for any issues that are discussed in this fic, please just let me know. I'm trying to include everything without being misleading, and all opinions are welcomed. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :-)

Unfortunately for Tony, they made it back to their suite before anyone could kill him.

On the plus side, it seemed increasingly likely that he would literally die of shame before too long…

He heard Steve close the door. He could _feel_ Steve, standing just a few feet behind him. And Tony knew there was no point in delaying this moment. If the ground really _wasn’t_ going to swallow him up, then he was going to have to look at Steve at some point... Try as he might, he couldn’t think of any reason to stay staring at this wall for the next eight days.

So, he might as well just turn around now…

But – _Christ, _he’d literally taken Steve’s shirt off-

There was just no grey area left to hide in, no narrative subtlety for him to exploit. No possible way to pretend that he hadn’t been _really_ into it-

And what the _fuck_ was he supposed to do with his face, right now?

“Are you…okay?” Steve asked, softly. Tony felt it set every bone in his body on edge… because it sounded _kind._

Tony swallowed. He unclenched his fists. He fought the threat of trembling, as he finally turned around.

And there was…

…Steve.

And Tony didn’t know what it was, exactly. How Steve could suddenly look so different, and still look so much like _Steve_. It was like going back to his first grade classroom as an adult, recognising that it hadn’t changed at all but looked entirely different… or, maybe, the other way around. Like, after so long seeing something with his present eyes, having accepted the new familiar, he could suddenly see it exactly as he had…at a different time… in another life…

Steve _had_ looked… different, since he came home. There had been a different _feeling_, a different set of associations… a different perspective entirely. And, now, Tony struggled to remember what he’d been looking at for all these months. Now, he could so clearly remember Steve hovering at the edge of the group, back when they all first moved into The Tower. That same heart-breaking nervousness, the same humbling bravery, about to have a go at engaging this confusing, alien thing – _again_.

_…Steve._

And Tony wasn’t sure what he thought about that. But it seemed to have a calming effect on his body, at least. His shoulders dropped; the threatened trembling edged away. He did _something_ with his face.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Tony nodded. “Embarrassed, and worried I’ve upset you, but other than that, I’m fine.”

_…huh. _

_Of all the things that could’ve randomly fallen out of my mouth – that actually wasn’t too bad. _

“You haven’t upset me.” Steve said, quietly, a blush running up his neck as fought the urge to look at the floor. “I just… I, uh, I’d like to explain that, but…”

“Ah, but you can explain it.” Tony found himself assuring, calmly. “They’re putting drugs in the water, we’ve just seen it with our own eyes. I’m not thinking of it as anything more than that.” Was a lie, obviously – but Steve seemed greatly reassured. And that gave Tony a warm, soft feeling he hadn’t had for a very long time…

“Did you get anything?” Steve murmured, finally giving himself permission to look away.

“…did I get anything?”

“From the computers?”

“Oh, right, the files!” Tony remembered – _delighted_ to have found something else to focus on. “I think I copied all of them. I’ll load them up, see what they say.” As he was speaking, he was already walking over to one of the bags he’d thrown into the corner of the living room, and then fishing his little file reader out of a concealed pocket.

“Okay, well, I’m going to go and deal with this…” Steve muttered, gesturing gingerly to his shirt – the wet stain across the front, from whatever Tony had thrown it into-

Yeah, he didn’t want to think about what that might be, either.

“Good plan. Do that.” Tony nodded, and then turned away and sat cross legged on the floor, his attention pointedly focused on the file reader in his lap. He carried on setting up his equipment, right up until he heard Steve turn the shower on. Then he let himself fall back, sprawling on the carpet. He covered his face with both of his hands and groaned, softly.

_I bit his lip-_

And then Steve had balled up all his courage, and asked if _Tony_ was okay, his whole being radiating that desperate, optimistic, fucking _irrepressible_ willingness to try-

_This is exactly how you ended up falling in love with him the first time around-_

Oh, no, no, no. _No you fucking don’t_.

He sat up again, and made himself look at the file reader. It was a homemade device that looked like a tablet computer, except that this had been specifically designed as the most hack-proof piece of equipment on earth. The USB stick blinking patiently, the screen awake but blank, waiting for the download to complete… Tony stared at it anyway. He would _not_ re-evaluate his entire relationship with Steve while he was on drugs. He would not let himself forget a betrayal that huge and two years of abject misery because Steve was also kind of sweet…

…_And a very good kisser-_

Nope. Not doing it to himself.

…Not again.

He’d rather just sit here staring at a blank screen, and wait for-

-A knock at the door?

Tony was on his feet immediately, already scanning the room for threats. He knew he should call Steve before he opened the door, that literally anyone could be on the other side of it… But he also knew Steve was in the shower. Subconsciously, he knew better than to think too hard about Steve in the shower – which meant he couldn’t really evaluate whether it was best to drag him out of it… _shouldn’t be thinking about Steve getting out of the shower-_

So, in a fleeting moment of very poor judgement, Tony just stepped forward and threw the door open anyway.

He dropped his arms immediately, and softened his face. Like Steve, he mistook her for a child, at first. And then he saw the lines around her eyes, and the bluish tint of her skin. He recognised that her face was alien… but still, the expression was so familiar. _Please, can you help?_

He stood aside, and let her walk into the room before he spoke.

“What’s your name?”

“Zanipher-Lo.” It was so strange, to hear her speak in an accent he didn’t recognise. A voice that was undeniably foreign, and unlike any on Earth. “People call me Zan.”

“I’m Tony.” He smiled, trying to keep an appropriate distance. He could sense that she was nervous – although probably not shy, under normal circumstances. There was a certain solidness in her posture, like she was comfortable standing tall and taking up a room.

“I think I’ve seen your lover, in one of the ground floor rooms.” She nodded – and Tony winced so hard it hurt his eyeballs.

“Steve.” He corrected. “His name’s Steve.” And then, in a bid to amend his tone. “He mentioned you, I think.”

“He did?”

“He said he saw someone come out from behind one of the bars, but he didn’t think you worked here…?” Tony prompted. Zan screwed her face up, obviously unimpressed.

“I do work here. Unfortunately.”

“Like the people in the basement?” Tony guessed, and Zan narrowed her eyes at him.

“That _was_ you, then?” She asked, in a level voice. “The break in, earlier?”

“Seems to me, you either know who did that or you’d have no idea whose door to knock on.” Tony observed. Zan smiled.

“I didn’t _know_ – I guessed… I hoped.” She told him.

“Why hoped?” Tony asked, slowing lowering to sit on the couch, gesturing for her to do the same. Zan’s eyes flitted around the room, like a wild animal looking around a cage. Cautiously, she sat.

“Because… we see things differently, to the people who come from earth. And it frustrates our new _employers_” She said it as though it was a swearword… or like she’d have liked to have sworn “Because they want us to tell them what it is, and we can’t. They keep asking us about words they’ve made up, and don’t fit – we can’t read minds, and we don’t _know_ what people are feeling. But we can see things you apparently can’t, and, _apparently_, we can’t see things that are perfectly obvious to you…” She spoke, bitterly, to somewhere over Tony’s shoulder. Like she wanted him to know she was angry, but not at him. “And… when I saw your – _Steve_? I thought… he isn’t like the other people who come here. And I know you’re very much in love-”

“_Shhh_.” Tony hissed, before he could stop himself. And then, when Zen looked at him in surprise, he added. “That’s a secret.” Zan knotted her brows in confusion.

“From who?” She asked, glancing around the room as though to illustrate her point. Tony felt his cheeks warming. _You’re just not supposed to say it out loud._

“It’s… an Earth thing. It’s hard to – it’s not important.” He muttered, and then gave his head a little shake. “I’m sorry, ignore that completely, carry on.” Zan considered him for a moment. And then she continued.

“I just thought _Steve_, and therefore probably you… and now that I’m here, I think, you… aren’t like them.” She said, sadly. “And I’m risking a lot, coming here – and if you tell them I’m here…But, we’re… If no one stops them, we won’t have anything left to lose, and we can’t stop them on our own. They’ve made it so that we can’t stop them on our own. So. I’m here to ask if you’ll help us.” She finished, on a nervous rush of air.

“I promise you, that’s literally _all_ we’re here for” Tony assured her – perhaps just a _little_ defensively. And then he heard the shower being turned off, and gestured to Zan, one moment. He stood up, and walked just a little closer to the bathroom door before he called out.

“Steve? Just so you know, we have a visitor. She’s wants to talk to us”

*

Steve had stripped the offending shirt off as soon as he’d walked into the bathroom, and immediately thrown it into the bin. He’d have liked to have stripped his skin off. He was so thoroughly ashamed he could’ve eaten himself.

And he _knew_ just how much Tony hadn’t wanted to do that.

He’d seen it in Tony’s face, he’d heard the misery in his voice when he whispered, _I’m just sorry._ He’d felt how uncomfortable Tony was, as soon as their lips touched-

_And you still grabbed his hips and-_

Steve flinched.

_I didn’t mean to._

_I didn’t mean to._

_I didn’t._

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower as quickly as he could, with his legs as weak as they were. His skin felt as though it was crawling with dirt. And, even though he already knew he wouldn’t be able to wash it clean, he couldn’t think what else to do about it.

He turned the cold tap on full, and put his face under the spray, and tried to focus on the sting of the water.

He tried to ignore that feeling.

He tried so hard not to _have_ that feeling.

He knew, he could _possibly_ rebrand this whole thing as something he’d had no control over, something that didn’t say anything about who he _really_ was, something that could be explained by this outside variable, this drug. He _could_ accept Tony’s kind explanation, and resolve to be a grown up about it, and distance himself from this –

_But not if you still wish you hadn’t stopped._

Steve tried to flinch that one away – but he couldn’t. He tried to tell himself he was shocked at his behaviour, that he couldn’t believe he’d done it, that he completely and uncomplicatedly regretted it. He _wanted_ to feel as horrified at himself and as distant from that behaviour as Captain America would’ve felt, if he’d found himself in the middle of something like that.

_But you still wish you hadn’t stopped._

Which was so much worse than just accepting he’d wanted it at the time. Of course he’d wanted it at the time – as Tony had been sitting in his lap, it would’ve been humiliatingly obvious how much he wanted it at the time. But he _could’ve_ unpacked that and put it into boxes and made it fit.

That was a side effect of a drug he hadn’t chosen to take, unrelated to his actual desires and beyond his control.

That was a purely physical reaction, and there was no need to be childish about it.

Tony may even have enjoyed it _at the time_.

And, God, it was even worse than just saying that he still wanted it now. Okay, obviously Steve still wanted to kiss him now – he’d wanted to kiss him for the last seven years, why would he suddenly not want to kiss him now? And, okay, maybe that would’ve meant he couldn’t completely distance himself from what he’d done, maybe it would’ve stopped him from claiming it had _nothing _to do with who he was – but, still, he could’ve coped with that. He could’ve _made_ boxes for that.

It was still a side effect of a drug he hadn’t chosen to take.

It was a feeling he could never help having but would _never_ have acted on.

Obviously, he would never have wanted to kiss Tony like _that_, he was still horrified to think of his actions.

And he _was_ still horrified to think of his actions.

He was genuinely, sincerely ashamed at the moment.

But…

There _was_ still a part of him that wished he hadn’t stopped. A little voice that kept on whispering,

_If you hadn’t broken that kiss just then_

_If you’d kissed him again, when he was still looking at you like that_

_If you’d told him you wanted him, if you’d just said-_

Then it could’ve been more awful than it was – that was the ‘right’ answer, right? That’s what Captain America would think about this, that’s what he _should_ be thinking.

_You will never get that chance again_

He grabbed a washcloth and began to scrub harshly at his arms. He wished the soap at The Facility wasn’t so soft, he wished he had something harsh and abrasive, something that might leave his skin feeling dried out and raw. He wished he _could_ scrub so hard that it hurt.

He wished Tony would yell at him for this.

Which made very little sense, because that very particular kindness of Tony’s was one of the reasons Steve had fallen in love with him in the first place. That intelligent, understated kindness that was meant entirely for others. Steve wanted to just be grateful that Tony was being nice about all this, after everything.

But he just kept imagining Tony screaming at him, asking him what the hell he was thinking or telling him he was out of his mind.

_Was it not perfectly clear that was all a cover? Did you actually think I was fucking kissing you?_

_Yeah, I responded to what you were doing, because we’re both on drugs – but what the fuck were you responding to? What triggered you?_

_And don’t tell me you weren’t into it – I was sitting on your fucking lap._

And Steve realised that he was _daydreaming_ about it, that he was picturing it all with a sense of longing rather than flinching away from an awful thought. He _wished_ Tony would ask him these questions–

Because maybe then he could answer them.

For as long as Tony was telling him that everything was okay, Steve could only imagine all the things he was really thinking. He had no option to explain himself if Tony never asked him, if Tony was just going to smile and tell him _it’s alright, I know._

For as long as Tony was saying he was fine with it, Steve could only guess how he really felt. Whether he’d fucked this up by embarrassing Tony or scaring Tony or angering Tony – if Tony was annoyed over his unprofessional behaviour or unnerved to think of how Steve might think of him… At least if Tony yelled at him, Steve would have a start. There’d be less chance of him spectacularly missing the point, if Tony yelled the point at him first.

And he knew he couldn’t go in cold. He couldn’t spontaneously apologise for a general feeling in his gut, without really knowing how Tony felt, when Tony had already said they should just ignore it and move on – but, maybe if Tony yelled at him, he could actually just apologise…for everything…

_Not everything._

He couldn’t apologise for how he was feeling at the moment, for a start. There was just no explanation or excuse for this. He’d rather die than admit this to Tony, whether he asked or not.

Because a part of him was _desperate_ to think back to it. A voice that reminded him of how many times he’d pictured kissing Tony, how often he’d wondered what it would feel like to have him pressed up against his chest… a voice that kept telling him that he knew now, if he’d just let himself know it. He had that memory now, a living, breathing, full-colour fantasy of Tony Stark in his arms, kissing him desperately –

_You can’t think about it like that_

_It’s not the same as imagining_

_It’s a horrible thing that happened_

_Tony probably feels horrible right now_

_You’re a horrible person for wanting to-_

By now his skin was numb from the cold of the water, his jaw clenched painfully against shivering – and, as Steve’s cock was still pressed hard against his stomach and his hips ached with the effort of ignoring it, he figured it wasn’t working anyway. He turned the hot tap, and focussed on the feeling of the water slowly warming up, the relief of it sinking into his muscles.

He thought of Tony’s hand on the side of his face, his thumb tracing his jaw so tenderly as he teased his lips apart-

_You’re a horrible person._

He tried to think of something else entirely.

Finally, in desperation, he tried to think of the look of horror in Tony’s eyes as he realised what he was doing – surely _that_ would stop him liking this? Surely, no one could still feel good remembering something, when they knew it really meant that-

But no, he had to flinch away from that too. And not because it was so awful to think of Tony being upset, like it _should_ have been. It was because he knew that, if he didn’t concentrate very hard, thinking of that moment would just lead to thinking about what _could_ have happened next. He’d start imagining what would have happened if he’d reached up and kissed Tony again, if Tony had melted into it just as readily, if nothing had stopped him before he had a chance to get his hands under Tony’s clothes, to kiss his neck-

_This can’t be who you are. _

_You don’t really want this, you wouldn’t really have done it._

_This is just the drugs. _

Suddenly, it occurred to Steve that the drugs were _in the water_ – and he turned the shower off with a bit too much force, and all but leapt out of it. He shook himself, disgusted at the thought, and then grabbed the nearest towel and began frantically drying himself.

And he thought of Tony’s hands on his chest. A real, physical memory, a moment he could feel and smell and taste. He remembered the thrill that ran through him as Tony pulled his shirt up over his arms…

The ideas that went through his head in that moment.

In that moment, he’d known Tony wanted him – wanted _that_. He would’ve kept kissing him. He would’ve let Steve undress him. He’d have let Steve push him down on that couch and fuck him right there in front of everybody, he would’ve-

“Steve? Just so you know, we have a visitor.”

Steve let out a surprised little squeaking noise that he really hoped Tony hadn’t heard. 

“She’s wants to talk to us”

Steve remembered that code, from half a decade ago. _They want to talk to us_ meant it was an ally. _They need to talk to us_ would’ve meant a problem.

And thinking that brought him back into the real world a little bit – at least enough to process the fact that there was apparently someone else in their room. That sounded like something that required attention.

He took a slow, shaky breath.

“Coming.” He called back, weakly – and then felt a deeply inappropriate regret over his choice of word.

*

When Steve emerged from the bathroom, his hair was still damp.

…This shouldn’t have distracted Tony to quite the degree that it did.

“Hi. I’m Steve.” He smiled, just to over Tony shoulder – and, oh yeah, there was someone else in the room…

“I’m Zan. I think we’ve almost met before.”

“You’re the woman I saw…working, in the bar?” Steve asked, and Zan sighed, sadly.

“I’m one of the senior chemists here. I work downstairs, in the lower basement – unless they want me to do something else.”

“They?” Steve asked, glancing at Tony. Tony could only shrug, subtly – this was as far into the story as he and Zan had got.

“The people who came from earth. We call them Adams – the people who run this place, not just earth people in general. Not that anyone here likes earth people in general very much anymore – but it’s the Adams we really hate. They’re the people we blame.”

As Zan was speaking, Steve had circled around so that he could sit on the couch – next to Tony. Which was all he really could do, if he wanted to look at Zan while she was speaking… But still…

“Blame for what? What did they do?” Tony asked – eyes firmly forward.

“This planet is really called Anni-Vara – which all of the Adams can pronounce, quite easily, and yet they chose to give it a name of their own…” A sadness passed over her face, her eyes losing focus for a second as she remembered something she wasn’t going to share… and then she blinked, and carried on. “It wasn’t like this, before they came here. Anni-Vara has a unique eco-system, and the people here have been using it to make medicines for the body and soul for thousands of years. Generations trained to respect the things they made, and the elements they made them from – and the good they could do. People would travel from every planet in this system to heal here. It was a spiritual place. People would go to our woods and smoke our herbal mixes, and meditate. Sick people would come to bathe in the lakes, to be restored. And yes, couples would come here and take our serums and it would help them to connect, and talk, and feel – but not like this.” And she scrunched up her face, to show her distaste, before she carried on.

“When the first Adams came, we welcomed them, the same way we welcomed anyone. And when they were interested in our medicines, we were happy to explain all there was to know about them – including the fact that they would be of no use anywhere else. And they _said_ they understood that, that they were just interested in what else there was to know… And then, one day, they came in their thousands. With guns, and bombs – and chemicals.”

She said the last word with such hurt. Such anger. Tony glanced up at Steve then, and saw the same uncomfortable fear he felt himself. The awkwardness of earlier had completely dissolved in the seriousness of what Zan was saying – but it was hard to be pleased about that, under the circumstances.

“We think that, to start with, they _were_ just hoping to take these medicines elsewhere, or replicate their effect with substances of their own… but, when they grew frustrated with that, they turned their attention to researching how else they could be adapted _here_. And all the time we were teaching them, they were planning… They used what we’d taught them to weaponize our drugs, to make bastardised versions of them and artificially corrupt the effect of our eco-system. No one from Anni-Vara had ever thought to do that. None of us had any clue what harmful potential these drugs might have, or how they’d be prevented – why would we? And, just like that, our generations of expertise were worthless, and there was nothing we could do. They killed hundreds of people here in the city of Mallamen, and enslaved damn near everyone else. And then they founded this place, and made us develop drugs for the patrons, and help them analyse their data, and run their experiments. And we all know they’re working on something, that this is all part of a bigger project, with a single goal… but none of us know what it is. None of us ask, or try to work it out – because we can’t.”

“Anni-Vara is a small planet, and not densely populated – but there are other cities, and people have tried to come to our aid. The same thing happens to all of them. And everyone in this city would’ve risen up, fought back, if we could – but it’s happening to all of us, too. The Adams put their own chemicals in the water and in the air, and they effect our physiology more than yours. It keeps us passive, and confused, and tired. I’m one of our senior chemists, and I take what I can get away with to counteract it, as best I can think to, not knowing what they give us… but it’s not enough. Groups have tried to gather a resistance, but they all come to nothing. Everyone is too tired, too distracted, too sad. And, if ever we did – when the armies of other cities come – the Adams can put thousands of us down with a single burst of gas. A cloud that puts us all to sleep, of leaves us all in blinding pain, and has no effect whatsoever on them. There’s nothing we can do.”

Steve looked over at Tony, a familiar expression on his face. Tony looked back – _okay, you know your bit. I’ll do mine._

“I promise you, we’re not leaving until we fix this thing.” Steve told her, with that pure and warm sincerity that only he could pull off “We will stop them poisoning you, and we’ll help you close this place down. I promise you that.”

And Zan looked at him, and she believed him. Of course, she did.

“Do you know if they’re doing all of this from here?” Tony asked, already listing the details he needed to do this equation.

“They do everything from here – the Adams all live on the top floor, unless they’re going back to Earth for something.” Zan explained “This is their stronghold in the city.” Tony looked over at Steve again, _well, that makes this simpler._

“So, what is it they’re pumping up from the basement? Where does that all end up, is it just going into the main water supply?”

“Not directly” Zan sighed, her eyes growing heavier. Tony thought back to what she’d told him. _It keeps us passive, and confused, and tired. _“There are a few of those basements, where we develop different things. Those are mostly the pure medicines, the things we’re good at. Then it gets pumped up to _their_ lab. They add their elements to it, and then it gets added to the water supply, and the ventilation systems.”

“And where is their lab, do you know?”

“On the third floor, where they have their experiment parties.”

“Experiment parties?” Steve repeated, a concerned frown on his face.

“They have parties for specially selected people on the third floor. They say its an exclusive experience, and I suppose to them, it is. None of them complain. But they’re only there so the Adams can have them take these things and do these things under test conditions.”

“And that’s where they’re poisoning you from, too?” Steve clarified, and Zan just nodded.

“So, how do we get to the third floor?” Tony asked

“You’d have to be invited.” Zan told him.

“Well, not necessarily. We’re pretty good at breaking in…to… places” Tony trailed off as Zan shook her head sadly.

“It’s not about security – it’s about the drugs they have up there. Well, which is about security, I suppose…” She paused, briefly, to yawn. “But, if you get invited up there, they ask you to take a pill before you go up. Counters the effect of the atmosphere, mostly. If you’re there without an invite, you’re there without a pill – and you’ll just be a sobbing wreck on the floor, within a few steps.”

Tony and Steve shared another glance.

“So, how do you get invited up there?” Tony asked, at last.

“You catch their attention as a test subject. You have a reaction to the drugs that they’re interested in, or show some quality they’re interested in.”

Tony considered Steve for a moment. He wondered how they could potentially draw it to The Facility’s attention that Steve would make a particularly interesting test subject.

“Whose attention do we have to catch?” He asked, picking up his file reader again.

“One of the management team” Zan mused.

“Do you know any of their names?”

“Maribelle. Louise. Wang. Dr Simonetti. There are a few others, but I don’t know their names.”

But, as luck would have it, something interesting popped up when he searched for the first one.

“Maribelle Ashlyn” Tony read aloud, scanning the employee details. Rank. Employee Number. _Area of speciality._

“I don’t know, we just call her Maribelle” Zan answered, as Tony moved to show her the file reader.

“It says that her area of interest is this drug here, C2H5OH, do you know anything about it?” He asked – just to make sure he was right.

“_Alcohol_” She all but hissed. “That’s not one of ours – they brought that with them, and they’re especially interested in adapting it, and how it interacts with things. Maribelle makes drinks with it.”

Tony looked at Steve again. He was smiling, sadly.

“Okay, well, I think I know a way we could possibly get their attention” Steve sighed “So, we probably _can_ get an invitation to the third floor.”

“To do what?” Zan asked, sleepily.

“Well, we’d have to work the details out.” Tony answered, softly. “You look tired.” Again, Zan just nodded.

“Is there anything more you can tell us?” Steve asked

“…not that I can think of.” Zan shook her head “I… had to think very hard, to prepare this much, and I didn’t think… I wasn’t sure what you’d ask, so…”

“Hey, it’s okay-” Tony tried to reassure her, but an anxious look had already come into her eyes.

“I should go. If they find out I was here, they’ll…”

“It’s okay.” Steve told her again. And she nodded, heavily, and stood up. Steve stood up too, of course, to walk her to the door. And then, at the last minute, a final thought occurred to her.

“You’re taking a huge risk, in helping us. The Adams have weapons, chemical weapons.” She told them, a hint of desperation bleeding through. “And I know I should do more to prepare you, more to _help_, and I don’t know if I’ve made a huge mistake in coming here, or if I’m doing something terrible to you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t do more than say that. I would say more, if I could just…” But she broke off into her own frustration, clearly unable to find the words. Very carefully, Steve put a hand on her shoulder.

“We _came _here to help.” He promised, softly. “Before anyone asked us to. We took that risk, because we knew there was something not right with this place – and there _are_ earth people who care about that stuff, who wouldn’t just stand by and let it happen. We’re here because we chose to be.”

She nodded a silent thank you, and she left.

The air in the room seemed heavier, like the sound of the door closing had echoed more slowly through the aftermath of that awful story. Tony swallowed down a sour taste of anger and shame, and he let it settle inside him. He let the vague sense of injustice concentrate itself into a sharp, hard determination. They’d stop this from happening. They had to.

Instinctively, he started to list the details he had. What they knew. What they _didn’t_ know. All the potential ways they could plan this. What would happen if they acted – what would happen if they didn’t.

Immediately, two separate plans presented themselves for evaluation. On the one hand, they _could_ just leave now. They had the information they’d gone undercover to find; they knew what The Facility was, now. They could just report this back – to the Avengers, to the global authorities, to a separate team like the one they had in Wakanda… any number of people who would help them bring this place down. At least if they did that, he and Steve would be at less risk. Arguably, a whole team or Avengers had more chance of stopping ‘Adam’ than just the two of them. And of course, there was the argument of transparency and accountability – their responsibility to follow the protocols, which almost certainly demanded they report something like this back…

But then… Who knew which global players had been involved in founding The Facility in the first place? If the Adams had an army, and an advanced chemical research lab, and the resources to build a place like this and maintain this ludicrous cover, it stood to reason that they were backed by some fairly influential people. Not to mention the sheer percentage of earths collective wealth that currently considered it their personal vacation spot… They had no way to know how innocent the other guests were, or what strings they might pull to protect The Facility. If they did leave, and hand it over to the powers that be, and then politics stopped anything from happening… Or, if the Adams grew suspicious of them leaving so suddenly, especially so soon after a break-in… Or, even, if something terrible happened here in the meantime, while they were trying to convince people to act…

On the other hand, they _could_ stay here and try to deal with this thing themselves. He could take Steve to one of Maribelle’s parties, makes sure everyone saw how much Steve could drink without any effects, hope it was enough to get them an invitation to the heart of the operation. Tony already knew how they could take things down, if they could just get in there – there were lots of ways. At least, if they did it that way, they could end this thing _now_. They wouldn’t give anyone the opportunity to stop them, or corrupt their plan. He’d never find himself looking at Zan, or someone she’d left behind, and having to tell them, _I’m sorry I brought these people here. _It was different to, _I’m sorry we couldn’t save you, I’m sorry we couldn’t do more._ It was a bigger responsibility to take, and the more people he trusted with this, the heavier that responsibility became.

And then, of course, there were the downsides to that plan. The particular, somewhat queasy risk of going into a situation where they’d _have_ to take these drugs. The fact that Steve would have to make himself a human guinea-pig to get to that stage in the first place. The possibility that they’d get there and realise they just needed an army – that they might’ve been able to bring one, if they hadn’t gotten themselves killed before they could raise the alarm…

That hot, irritable realisation that he was questioning whether they should follow the rules, or if, actually, the safest hands were still their own…

He looked at Steve, who was still starting forlornly at the door. He heard a little voice whisper, _guess it’s not so simple when you want to break the rules, eh?_

And then Tony felt a hot little spike of resistance. Another part of himself, a part that had grown increasingly annoyed as the rest of him had softened towards Steve. Another voice that whispered back, _I never said it was._

Tony never said they should never break the rules – only that it would be better to have them. To try to follow them as best they could. To have an official, codified system to judge them, something they could defend themselves to, rather than trial by press every time.

He never said it would always be simple. What he’d actually said was that it _was_ complicated, that no amount of ideological speeches would simplify it, that a complex solution was needed.

And he _wasn’t_ angry that Steve hadn’t signed the Accords. He wasn’t _even_ angry that Steve had decided to break them. That was Steve’s retelling of things. _I wish we agreed over The Accords, I really do…_ Why? Tony was angry that Steve lied to him – as a friend _and_ as a colleague. He was angry because Steve had been unnecessarily reckless, because he didn’t have to do _that_ to stand by his principles, oppose The Accords or help his friend. He was angry because Steve had been so blinded by the purity of his motivations that he’d assumed the rightness of his methods.

_This isn’t about you and Steve right now_.

Tony gave himself a little mental kick. Called himself spoilt and self centred, for good measure. Right now, it didn’t matter how much Steve had hurt him. Right now, Tony just had to think about how not to hurt other people.

“So, what do you think, is this a back up situation?” He sighed, still talking to the back of Steve’s head.

“Sometimes I think the holocaust messed me up more than anything.”

Steve spoke so naturally; it took Tony a second to recognise that it wasn’t an answer to his question.

“Say again?”

“I can’t think now what we thought they were doing. We knew things that the people didn’t, obviously – all these reports that I think I just assumed was all Hydra, I don’t know. We knew what Hitler’s politics were, we thought… I think… I don’t know, anymore. I just know we weren’t expecting _that._ It never occurred to us that, just, ordinary people could go to work every day in places like that, that people would ever think that was okay. It was worse than when Hydra did it – although I don’t know why, really, because _they_ were all just people too. It’s always just people.”

And, at last, Tony realised, Steve wasn’t even talking to him. He was just _talking_…

“…And I never think of the holocaust, because it wasn’t being frozen for seventy years or breaking up the Avengers, or facing Thanos… I never think to add the war to that list of… _things, _but…I don’t think of those other things the same way. It’s always those guards I think of, the one’s that used to run a bakery and loved their _own_ wife and kids. That’s always what scares me about every choice I make, so maybe that _is_ a bigger deal than I think it is… It’s the first thing I think of, when I wonder if we’re a war like people – do you ever wonder that? You know how Thor talks about whole planets as being peaceful, or warlike… do you ever think that human beings are actually one of the spiteful, selfish races, that we’re just wasting our whole lives to stop the Daleks killing each other?”

And he looked at Tony – and Tony realised that he wasn’t breathing. His throat was suddenly tight. And then he saw Steve recognise that he said all of that out loud.

“You…you, uh, just asked me a question, didn’t you?” He muttered, weakly.

“Steve-”

“Sorry, I didn’t – I don’t know why I said all of that. I’m sorry.” Steve babbled, dropping his eyes. “Don’t we have a… an, alien…planet card, or whatever it was? Could we just ignore that please?”

_…Why?_

Why would Steve be embarrassed he’d said any of that? Why would he want Tony to ignore it?

…But, well. Fair’s fair. Tony had invented the stupid Alien-planet-card thing. He could hardly demand Steve talk about his feelings when he’d already refused to.

So.

“You want to order some dinner and discuss how we help liberate the city of Mallamen?” He suggested, instead. And Steve just nodded, gratefully.

And a little voice in Tony’s head whispered,

_You’ve been doing everything all wrong…_


	6. Chapter 6

Steve paused in front of the mirror, halfway through buttoning his shirt. He suddenly had a sinking sense of déjà vu.

He remembered the morning that he and Tony had set off for The Facility. That feeling that they hadn’t really talked this plan through, because of all the other things they couldn’t talk about first. The faint, unplaceable itch of all the things they’d half said. The nagging concern that they’d both been swept into it on a rush of awkwardness and making-do.

The feeling that having a conversation _so_ focused on the immediate plan was what had gotten them stranded in this hell-hole in the first place. That maybe, ‘managing’ to avoid the wider issues had been a very bad idea…

He sighed, and finished getting dressed. He tried to tell himself this wasn’t the same.

This time, at least, the elephant in the room hadn’t pushed them into doing something stupid…

They were going to Maribelle’s party tonight because they’d decided it made sense to do that first. Because it made sense to gather as much information as possible before they gave up their vantage point– that was the point of being undercover, after all.

They weren’t informing the authorities, because it wasn’t time to do that yet – they were only going to see if they could get an invitation to the third floor, and maybe meet the management team. Really, it was no further through the process than their break in, they were no more in need of back up, yet. _Maybe_, if they got an invitation, or learned something new, maybe then they’d revisit it.

Steve was going to drink the alcohol, even though it was a risk – because, hey, he was already drinking the water and eating the food and breathing the air. He took the risk of being killed or ambushed or mind controlled on every mission. They’d just have to be careful.

And no one had said 'I know you're opposed to the idea of regulation'

Or 'I thought you were all about accountability and reporting things back'

Or, 'See, I'm quite reasonable about things if you bother to discuss them with me'

Or 'See, some things you just can't entrust to the system' 

That should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?

But…Still…

He could still feel all those words, hanging in the air. He knew that Tony must be thinking about Siberia, as much as he was. And Steve could just imagine _what_ Tony must be thinking…

_If he’d just say-_

_If he’d just let me say-_

_If he’d yell at me-_

He shook that thought away especially violently. _Childish,_ he admonished himself, _entitled, pathetic. _

He knew that it was his own fault, for never saying any of these things.

He knew that it wasn’t on Tony to make this easier for him.

He knew that he should be pleased this mission wasn’t being corrupted by all that. It was too important. It wasn’t about the things he’d like to say to Tony.

But.

Still.

_What if he’s just stopped bothering to argue with me?_

_What if every conversation we ever have about anything-_

“Hey, you nearly ready?” Tony called, from the living room.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Steve answered, having to force the words over a sudden clenching in his heart. He tried to feel reassured by the pleasant, natural tone that Tony was using now. He tried reminding himself that it was exactly what he’d been working to earn back, for the last six months. He tried telling himself, _it’s a start… _But there was that creeping feeling, the one that had been growing ever since Tony had snapped at him about hurt feelings – as Steve became increasingly sure that he’d been doing this all wrong the whole time. Now, he thought back to his original ‘plan’, his hopes that Tony might just… _warm to him_, or something, this week… and it made him feel dirty. And cheap. And _embarrassed._

_Stupid. Clueless. Insensitive._

And now he heard Tony talking to him like a co-worker, and he thought maybe it wasn’t a start at all… maybe it was an ending. Maybe there had been more hope back when Tony was giving him the silent treatment and cold responses – back when Tony was showing him that he was hurt. And Tony had shown him, and shown him, and to make it all worse, Steve _had _seen it… and he’d mistaken it for anger, and a sense of injustice, and he’d waited for it to pass. He’d been waiting until Tony was less annoyed, thinking it’d all be easier then… Not realising it could only ever mean that Tony had stopped bothering to show him…

That it would mean Tony had stopped caring at all.

And Steve really hadn’t known that Tony cared enough to have hurt feelings in the first place. And now the thought that maybe he had… That maybe there had been a chance, and Steve had just let it pass…

_You will never get that chance again._

He took a deep breath, and forced himself to leave the bedroom – he was genuinely worried he’d start crying if he didn’t. And he couldn’t have that. There was an entire race of people at risk of enslavement, God knows what potential repercussions of this evil project.

He had to focus up.

And then, just as he walked through to the living room, he heard,

“You look nice.”

And it came in the same casual, breezy tone – but still, Steve immediately registered the strangeness of that statement. The…niceness, of it…

He glanced over and found himself looking at the side of Tony’s head. He had the distinct impression that Tony had looked away from him the moment he realised what he’d said.

“Um, thanks” Steve managed. And, before he could add a particularly awkward _you too_, he saw Tony take a steadying breath, and set his shoulders.

“So, before we go out tonight, we should probably talk about…what might happen.” Tony spoke as though the words tasted bad. And there was a peculiarly exciting rush of horror as Steve realised what Tony meant. A strange bracing feeling in his stomach.

“And, I don’t think there’s any point in either of us deciding we’re just not going to…or, promising ourselves…anything, because, obviously, these things can just…_happen_, here. So. It might happen again.” And then Tony swallowed, and closed his eyes, and added “It might not…stop…there, next time.”

Steve honestly felt as though he’d just stepped out of his body. Like some part of him knew, when he processed this, he wasn’t going to be able to deal with it. He suddenly felt lightheaded. He wasn’t completely confident of the floor beneath his feet.

“So, there’s an additional risk, we should probably have factored into this earlier… that’s just…a _fact_, of the situation.” Tony finished on a rush of air.

And then he looked at Steve.

And Steve literally screamed inside his own head. It was a total fluke that he didn’t do it out loud.

_I’m sorry – could you possibly give me a few minutes to have a full on crisis of self, before I have to think about that?_

Not an option, was it? It was never a fucking option.

Because he would really have liked a moment with all the issues that question raised, before he even thought about answering it.

The fact that Tony was asking his permission to…

Or _giving_ permission to…

Oh, God, Steve wasn’t sure that he could trust himself not to abuse that.

Which was a horrible, soul shaking thought – but, Jesus, part of him was still kicking himself for not taking more advantage yesterday. He _couldn’t_ trust himself to stop if Tony had said it was okay.

And it wasn’t the same as not trusting himself to stop because of the drugs.

It wasn’t the fear that it would happen, or even that he’d enjoy it.

It was the abject terror that there might come a moment when he really did have a choice. A moment, like last night, when he knew exactly what they were doing… and that he _could _keep doing it, if he wanted… A moment that he might’ve gotten through, if he could’ve just thought about how much Tony would hate him, or blame him, or be hurt by it –

Was Tony about to say that none of that was true?

Was he saying it would be okay, if…

And he shouldn’t even be asking himself this question, not in the way that he was. He was _already_ balancing out the morality of this, for no other reason than he wanted to – Oh, God, he couldn’t tell Tony that.

Fuck, how could he not tell Tony that?

How could he – oh, he was a horrible, _creepy_ person, and he should probably deal with that revelation before he gave any thought to what Tony was saying-

But there was a potential apocalypse in the works, wasn’t there? _As always_

And Tony was asking him the question _now_, and-

In a panic Steve thought back to all the well-meaning advice he’d been given about life in the 21st Century. All the things he’d told _himself_, as he’d nursed his many regrets.

Sam, with his _you shouldn’t be scared about having feelings, you can be honest about what you think and what you want, no one would judge you._

All those nights he’d lost, telling himself _if you’d just told Tony the truth, if you’d not been so scared of his reaction. If you’d thought about how he might get hurt if you didn’t tell him and not just what would happen if you did…_

Okay, great, that was great. Just be honest with Tony about his feelings right now. Simple. _Fucking_…great.

_Well, the thing is Tony, I want to fuck you anyway. So no, I’m not going to be traumatised if it happens again. But I am kinda traumatised by the idea that I want it to happen again – actually, there’s a part of me that thinks, just by saying this, it will happen, and that part of me is excited right now. But the rest of me is horrified. So, while I’m dealing with that, I think it’s only right to warn you that you’re possibly going on this mission with a genuine creep – but, as I’ve not had that break down yet and I don’t know what I am, could you please not think of me as creep in general._

Yeah, he was pretty sure that wasn’t right. He couldn’t see Sam endorsing that.

And there was no way he could say any of that out loud anyway.

And Captain America? Captain America would say he absolutely shouldn’t put either himself or Tony in this position. Especially if he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with Tony about the real risk he was taking. And, obviously, no matter how much he wanted it, however unlikely it was he would get this chance again, he could _not_ take advantage of this situation – take advantage of Tony. And if Steve really couldn’t trust himself to make as much effort as possible, if there was even the slightest chance he’d… then he’d have to step back.

And, of course, Captain America would say that there was no way they could leave the people of Anni-Vara to suffer any longer. That it would be worth capture, torture, even death, to try and make this right. There was no way Captain America would let a personal crisis, or even the risk of a horrible personal tragedy, stand in the way of doing what was right – which was going to Maribelle’s party. They’d discussed it. The best way they had of learning what they needed to know, and not putting any additional lives at risk, was for Steve to go out tonight. Whatever the risk. Whatever the personal cost.

So, this was probably why they never did the _Undercover at an Orgy_ story in the comics.

“Look Steve… It _is_ okay for you not to be okay with that.” Tony forced himself on, when it became obvious that Steve wasn’t going to speak any time soon. “It is okay to have a line. You simply existing doesn’t mean you have to take on every… torture, the world can dish out, just to make up for other people being bastards. And you have flown a plane into the arctic, and you did try very hard to go down with that helicarrier, and, idiot that you are, you did decide to run head on at Thanos’ entire army, so, I don’t think anyone could say you’d not done enough, if you said this was your line. And it’s a fair line, by the way. I don’t think anyone would ask you to explain that, I think they’d know.”

“…Mainly, I’m worried about hurting you.” Steve said, oh so carefully, taking as much time as possible over every single word. And Tony actually smiled at him, and told him softly.

“Which is very Steve Rogers of you, and I appreciate it – but I think this is one of those things where you really _have_ to think about yourself. Because if this is beyond your line, there’s no point ignoring that and running face first into it anyway. This is not Thanos.”

“…Is this beyond your line?” Steve asked. In desperation. In a panic.

_Because you just want to know._

“No.” Tony answered, quietly… but sure.

And oh, Steve wished his heart hadn’t leapt like that. Or, even, if it had _only_ been his heart. Maybe he could’ve hated himself a little less.

“The thing is Steve…” Tony sighed. And then there was that little, almost self-conscious smile that had _always_ turned Steve’s legs to water… “Sex is a complicated, multi-layered, _personal_ thing. And I’m not saying this isn’t… different, to anything else I’ve ever…_done, _I’m not saying it isn’t uncomfortable, or that I wouldn’t trade my entire personal fortune not to have this whole thing go away, or anything… But, in the grand scheme of things, thinking of what’s at stake here… the, uh, _act itself_, is not a big deal. To me. I mean, I’ve had my fair share of unwise one night stands while under the influence, and I’ve gone to work with people after regrettable nights before – and I know it isn’t the same. But, all of that is part of how I come to my decision on this. So, everyone is going to have a different, I don’t know, feeling, about all of this…” And he took a deep breath, and slowed himself, and made himself look Steve in the eye when he went on “And, my decision – _my line_ – is that I can handle anything that might happen. But what I won’t be able to handle is if this…breaks you. If this is beyond your line, and we let it happen anyway, and then afterwards you… can’t deal, with this. So. I need you to be honest with me Steve. It doesn’t matter what my line is. I need to know what _you_ think.”

By now, Steve was struggling to think of _any_ words, over the frantic beating of his heart. He was a little bit worried that, if he opened his mouth to say something, he’d actually just be sick.

How could he be honest with Tony about this without being honest about everything? Not even just that he was in love with Tony – about _everything_. And how could he tell Tony what he was feeling when he didn’t even know? How could he explain, when every part of himself was screaming something different, and he didn’t know which were real and which were things he’d just _really _regret admitting, when they’d gone away….

“Honestly… I don’t really know what my line is, or what I even think about, sex or…well anything, half of the time. But, I think, wherever my line is… I don’t think anything that could happen here would be worse than being frozen for seventy years. I don’t think, wherever my line is, that something like this would be, uh, closer to it than the helicarriers. I mean, unless I upset you. So, I don’t know, maybe I’m just saying the same thing…”

He didn’t really know what he was saying. But, in the moment, it felt as close to the truth as he could bear to say out loud. As much of it as he could find the words for. Because he couldn’t say _I love you, and I want you._ He couldn’t say, _the only thing that bothers me about any of this is the guilt._ The closest he could manage was,

“I’m a lot more worried about what I might do than anything that might… be done to me.”

And that, of course, was an appalling choice of words. But heaven help him, it was the best he could do. And Tony just nodded, stoically, and looked away.

“Okay. Good.” He murmured. And then he looked up again, and he was back to the same casual, co-worker smile. “Come on then,” He breezed. “Let’s go and get you drunk”

Steve tried to smile back.

_If only._

*

It would’ve sounded ridiculous if he’d said it out loud… but Steve _had_ kind of forgotten about the sex in The Facility.

Perhaps the two nights spent hiding in their suite had acted as a sort of buffer. Perhaps it was just that he’d been too concerned with his own fucked up sex life (or lack thereof) to think about what anyone else was doing. But somehow, Steve still managed to be shocked when they walked into Maribelle’s party and there was a woman casually sucking her boyfriend off at the bar. As you do.

Steve flinched away and looked at the floor, all of his energy focused on not thinking about _any _part of that…

He should be aiming for as boring, as functional, as non-sexual thoughts as he possibly could-

At this orgy.

_I hate my life_.

“Drink?” Tony asked, an edge of humour on his voice. Steve managed a joyless smile. He pointedly did not watch Tony walk over to the bar. Instead, he took an _intense_ interest in the décor.

This was bigger than any of the rooms downstairs, with several bars and lounge areas around a huge black marble dancefloor. There was a balcony that ran around the whole of the room, a few people leaning over it, watching the couples below. The balustrade was adorned with shimmering golden chains and tiny black gems… The theme of the party was nominally ‘Black and Gold’, which was probably why Tony was wearing a black shirt-

_not thinking about Tony in the shirt. Thinking about the room._

Which was dark. Almost all of the light seemed to come from the sparkling gold fairy lights that netted the ceilings and fringed all the bars. It reminded Steve of the night clubs that Tony had been photographed in when he was younger… photographs Steve had no reason to have looked up and probably shouldn’t mention, ever… _Don’t think of those photographs. Don’t think of Tony, at all. Think about the mission. Survey the room._ Instinctively, he looked for exits and vantage points – the same way Tony counted happy prime numbers to ward of an anxiety attack. Something he was familiar with. Just something he could do with his head.

And then Tony reappeared, expertly holding two glasses in each hand.

“I’m trying to minimise the number of trips to the bar” Tony explained, when Steve raised an eyebrow at him. And, when Steve looked back, he saw that the woman was now bent over it-

“Fair enough” Steve nodded, taking two of the drinks. They were tall glasses, filled with what looked like orange juice. Steve took a little sniff of one of them, and wrinkled his nose. Not orange juice, then.

“The Eden – strongest drink they do” Tony told him with a salesman’s grin. Steve took a cautious sip… actually, it wasn’t too bad. Sweet, and sugary. “I told anyone who’d listen that you have an impossible tolerance. As loud as I could.” As Tony was talking, Steve was deliberately draining one of the glasses – mainly because he didn’t want to have to hold two of them. Tony waited until he’d finished, and set the empty glass aside, to tell him, “Well, the barman is definitely looking at you”-

Before handing Steve his second drink, and flashing a faux innocent smile-

_God, he’s pretty when he-_

Steve closed his eyes, and took a long, slow slip from the new glass.

_Focus._

“Do we know if Maribelle is here?” Steve asked, for the sake of something to say.

“I did ask – apparently she usually shows up to this one.” Tony shrugged. And Steve shrugged back – well, they’d guessed that much. According to the notes on Tony’s little file reader, the second-floor parties were all actually themed by substance – and, when you knew that, you could see that alcohol was a much more coherent theme in this room than ‘Black and Gold’. As well as all the very well stocked bars, there were also several staff members circling the room with trays of shot glasses, and ornate glass bottles left on every table. And, as Maribelle was apparently The Facility’s resident expert on alcohol, it made sense that she’d be in this room, if she was anywhere.

So, as Steve didn’t have much else to say about that, he finished another glass, and set it aside. Then he cast a weary glance at the drink he was still holding, and decided to give it a moment. The sheer volume of liquid and the sugary taste were a bit much.

“Still no idea what she looks like?”

“Oh, apparently she’s got dark hair and is _very_ pretty” Tony replied, “And she usually wears red.”

“…But it’s a black and gold party?” Steve frowned.

“I dunno. Maybe she’ll be wearing black and red.” Tony sighed. “Or red and gold”

“Urg. How garish.” Steve joked. And, before he could kick himself for it, Tony laughed.

And looked at him…

And suddenly, Steve’s mouth was dry again.

As he drank, he saw Tony glance over to the bar – to where two of the barmen were now definitely taking an interest in him. Steve pointedly finished the glass before he took it away from his lips.

“Come on, if we want lots of people to see you, we’d probably better circulate” Tony said, scanning the room before he added. “I think the bar at the back has the best clothes to people ratio.”

Steve didn’t feel the need to check that maths for himself. He just followed Tony across the dancefloor, trying not to think about the shape of his back – trying not to look any _lower_ than his back-

And then, half way across the room, Tony just stopped. Steve saw him look over at the bar to their left-

And then Tony turned, and looked right at him-

_Oh, those eyes_.

…He literally didn’t hear anything Tony had just said, he was too busy staring at them.

“I’m sorry, say again?” He stammered, and Tony sighed impatiently – and stepped _closer_-

“_The dark haired woman, at the bar over there.”_ He said, pointedly. And Steve was glad to be able to look away.

Eventually his eyes focused on a very pretty woman, in a long black dress with red lace trim. And somewhere, it did ring a bell.

But Tony lost patience before Steve put two and two together-

And grabbed his hand.

And the sudden thrill of Tony’s skin on his was overwhelming. It shot through Steve’s arm and made his shoulders feel weak. Tony was only able to pull him along so easily because Steve’s legs had turned to jelly. All he could feel was the warmth of Tony’s palm against his, and his fingers wrapped around his hand-

When Tony let go, the whole world returned to Steve in a rush. They were already standing by another bar, a few feet away from the dark-haired woman. _Finally_ his brain supplied the name; Maribelle. One of the people responsible for the enslavement of an entire city, he reminded himself.

_Focus._

“Here, you might as well finish this” Tony told him – loud enough for Maribelle to hear it – as he handed Steve his glass. “I’m going to get us something different.”

“Let’s try shots” Steve suggested, as Tony walked away. This would be easier with less actual fluid to drink, he reasoned. And then he felt someone looking at him, and already knew it was her. He sighed, and downed the drink.

By the time he’d put the empty glass down on the table beside him, and cast a casual glance in her direction, Maribelle was already talking to someone else… but he got the distinct feeling, she was talking about him…

Tony returned with a tray, and six shot glasses.

“And these are called _starshine_, apparently.” Tony explained, putting the tray down on the table. Steve picked one up, and saw that the clear liquid was shimmering with silver glitter. He shrugged, and swallowed it in a single mouthful. It was sharp, and slightly metallic, and he didn’t really like it much – but at least it wasn’t sweet.

“Better” He commented, taking a second shot, and then a third, just to get them out of the way. “Is anyone even paying attention to this?”

“Oh, you definitely have an audience,” Tony smiled, handing him another shot. Steve cocked an eyebrow, and drank it.

And then, before he could take another one, a blonde man appeared beside them with a tray.

“Would you like to try something a bit different?” He enquired, cheerfully.

“Sure, why not” Steve agreed readily, glad he didn’t have to finish the _starshine_ just yet.

“I should warn you though, this is especially strong, and not recommended for inexperienced drinkers.”

“_He’ll_ be fine” Tony laughed. And the man glanced at Steve, _you’re sure?_

“It takes an awful lot to get me drunk.” Steve smiled, taking one of the shots from the tray. It was a dark amber colour, and it smelled of almonds.

“It’s called a Cherry Bakewell” The man added, as Steve drank it. It tasted…

Warm.

And there was something… different, about it. A different texture, maybe…

“It’s nice.” Steve smiled politely, putting the empty glass down with the others. And the man looked at Steve for a second too long before he smiled back.

“Thank you. Enjoy your evening.” And then he went back to circulating with his tray.

“Huh. I think we lost Maribelle” Tony observed, glancing over Steve’s shoulder. But, by then Steve was already holding another one of the _starshine_ shots, so he drank it anyway-

And _it_ tasted slightly different, now. The same strange texture, which gave it a subtly different flavour…

Steve frowned, and shook the thought away. Probably just the after taste of Cherry Bakewell.

“Well, she’s seen me, anyway.” Steve mused, reaching out to take the final drink. Thinking he’d clear the table, before they took a break from this. “Do you want to go looking for her again?”

“Not just yet.” Tony mused “It’ll look weird if we’re just following her around…” And Steve just nodded, and finished the final shot…

…He was sure _it_ tasted different now, too.

…He quite liked it, now.

There was a sudden commotion from the other end of the bar. They both looked over in unison, to see an enthusiastic server standing on top of it, waving for the patrons’ attention. Steve felt the chatter around them simmer to a hush.

He immediately felt more exposed – more _aware _of Tony, right there – without the blanket of noise around them.

“_Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please” _She shouted, with a smile and a theatrical wave “_We have a couple here tonight who are celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary!”_

There was a smattering of applause that felt strangely… distant. Like he was hearing it from inside a bubble. It felt slower. Everything felt slower.

Everything felt…_softer_, than it usually did. Or, no, not softer exactly… more expansive, maybe, more flexible – less _stiff_… It would be nice, to let himself slip into this now. It was so much more exhausting to stay focused, so much _harder_… so much more tempting, not to…

And Steve tried to remember why he had to… but apparently his thoughts were all… _slippery _now, and… mushy… He kept forgetting what he was literally in the middle of thinking about, or finding himself lost in an idea that suddenly seemed entirely irrelevant… to… whatever it was he was… whatever was meant to be relevant…

_Wait. What was I just thinking about?_

And then there was a red haired woman, standing right next to them with a tray of champagne glasses.

“For the toast” She whispered, holding the tray up and glancing back towards the server – who was still standing on the bar, talking about Val and Louie’s amazing matrimonial achievement… or something…

And, really, it was just that Steve recognised the basic social cues. He took a glass because it was being offered to him… he didn’t think about it…

There was a dull cheer from the room, and a sudden uniform motion. He recognised everyone raising their glass to the air… so he did the same…

And then he drank, because that came next… because everyone else did…

And he just kept drinking, because… he was drinking…

He felt Tony elbow his ribs softly, and took the glass from his lips to look.

_He has such beautiful eyes._

_…such beautiful everything._

_And such a… feeling about him… he’s just so…_

_…oh, wait, looking at me for something._

“What?” Steve whispered – well, _he_ thought he was whispering. From the way Tony’s eyes suddenly widened, Steve had to assume that’d come out louder than he’d meant it to…

“That’s Maribelle behind the bar” Tony whispered back. And Steve looked over to see that, yes, it was.

So…?

_Oh, yeah. Make sure she sees me drinking. That plan._

So, he handed Tony his empty glass… finding that he had to put more thought into it than he usually would… and took Tony’s drink in exchange. Then Steve gave his head a little shake, and told himself to pay attention.

“She keeps talking to that blonde guy.” Tony whispered “Maybe we should speak to him. We’ll have more luck with him than with his boss”

Steve looked back at Tony again… Tony, looking up at him with expectation and… hm, Steve was clearly meant to say something now…

He thought through what he’d just heard Tony say – _try speak blonde guy luck boss._

…Nope.

“Sorry, say again?” He muttered, surprised by how freely the words slipped over his lips. He saw Tony frown… tighten his mouth, just so…

Then Tony pointed to Maribelle… no, just in front of that, to the blonde guy standing on the other side of the bar from her… The guy with the Cherry Bakewell shots...

“We should talk to him” Tony said, more pointedly, scanning Steve’s face in the strangest way.

“Oh, right, yeah.” Steve nodded – and then, because he vaguely remembered that it was what he was supposed to be doing, he drained his glass. And he went to put it down on the table behind him, readying himself to follow Tony to… wherever it was he’d just said they were going-

And suddenly he realised what a challenge it was going to be.

That he didn’t know how much grip or force or extension to use, or something… that he’d have to be careful, not to miss, or smash the glass…

It took too long, and too much care, to lower it onto the table. And, as Steve was recognising that, it occurred to him that he wasn’t sure how his legs worked, either… That, if he had to follow Tony, he wasn’t sure…

Oh, God, he was _drunk_.

And, as soon as the word occurred to him, it was so obvious. He recognised every part of this, from so many years ago… he just _never_ thought-

_Shit, I am drunk._

_That is bad._

_I should say something,_

That was as much cognitive input as he could manage, at the moment.

Tony was standing a few steps away from him now. Steve wasn’t sure when that had happened, but it didn’t matter… he just had to tell Tony-

And, God, it really was hard to take a step forward – was he moving really slowly, or-?

But, with a lot of careful thought, he finally took that step, and came to a heavy stop just behind him. Tony started talking before he even turned around.

“Okay, so I think we’ve – are you okay?” Tony interrupted himself, when he came face to face with Steve.

_No, I am very drunk_

…Nope, didn’t say that out loud.

Try again.

“I-”

“Hi. It’s Tony, isn’t it? And Steve?”

And Steve looked up, and saw Maribelle standing just there beside them, smiling warmly. And then he saw the blonde guy, still holding a tray of shot glasses, standing behind her like a royal guard.

“Yes, hi, pleased to meet you” Tony jumped in energetically, taking a tiny little sidestep… trying to put himself between Steve and their sudden guests. “It’s Maribelle, right?”

“Oh, you can call me Belle” She smiled, glancing between them “And you’ve just arrived, is that right?”

“Er, yeah, day before yesterday” Tony breathed, smiling too enthusiastically… Belle didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, wow, that _is_ new” She beamed, glancing back at her ‘staff’ with an impatient sort of affect. The blonde guy stepped forward, holding the tray up for her. “Please, allow me to recommend…” Maribelle carefully selected two shot glasses full of bright blue liquid from the rainbow of options lined up on the tray. “_This _was specially blended for newcomers – it has a nice, smooth transition.” She explained, handing Steve and Tony a drink each.

Steve just took his, because someone was holding it out for him.

He looked at Tony, because he could feel Tony looking at him.

And he saw Tony shrug in such a way that Maribelle would hear, _oh well, C’est la vie_. And Steve knew to hear, _what else can I do_?

And what else _could_ Steve do?

So, Steve drank his, in the head-back, single-gulp method that Natasha had taught him, all those years ago…

And a heat slid down his throat…

And a familiar, sweet flavour…

And a light-headedness… a dizziness he could _taste_, that he could feel sliding its way into his blood…

“Wow.” Tony gasped. “That’s strong.”

“Well, the effect varies, actually, depending on who drinks it, and when.” Maribelle announced, sounding pleased with herself. And Steve _did_ try to listen to her… but it was like her voice was moving further way from him… moving in and out of focus, echoing on itself… “The effect can vary

depending on who drinks it and when

That it’ll get anyone to an initial stage, regardless of their tolerance

If you’re already feeling

Without worrying you’ll go beyond that point…”

And then it was just a noise. A not unpleasant melody in the background of a soft, gentle world…

There was a golden halo around Steve’s field of vision… and everything he looked at seemed more…_broken down_… like he was looking at individual colours and shapes and objects instead of the scene as a whole…

“Steve?” Tony’s voice dragged him back into the room.

“Hm?”

“Did you like it…?” Tony repeated, an edge on his voice, gesturing sharply with the shot glass.

“Oh! Yes!” Steve answered quickly. “Yes, it tastes like lemons.”

“Lemon Meringue” Maribelle grinned, apparently delighted that Steve had picked up on it.

“Yes! That’s what it is!” Steve agreed, too energetically. “…But it’s blue?”

“What did you expect it to taste of?” She asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Bubble gum” Steve thought aloud. “…Or Raspberry.”

“What was your favourite ice cream flavour, when you were a kid?”

“There weren’t ice cream flavours when I was a kid” Steve laughed.

“Okay, how about now?” She pressed, smiling indulgently.

“Um, I don’t know – Cherry, probably” He shrugged, pulling the answer from nowhere. Belle smiled, and raised a finger – _one moment_. And then she walked away.

Steve turned to Tony – who was staring at him incredulously.

“I am _so_ drunk” Steve explained – although Tony had clearly worked that out for himself by now.

“I thought that couldn’t happen?” Tony breathed, looking Steve up and down.

“Yeah, me too!” Steve announced – and, yeah, okay, _that_ had been too loud…

And Tony’s eyes widened… a sort of amused helplessness crossed his face…

Steve could see him trying not to smile.

He could _see_ all the thoughts running through Tony’s head…

_He has such expressive eyes…_

Tony was beautiful, and unique, and…_bright_. Dazzling, shiny bright, brilliant and blinding and…

And out of nowhere an idea just lodged itself into Steve’s head, and took root. A random drunken insight, nurtured by a false confidence and an inebriated sense of entitlement.

But he _should_ be able to tell Tony that-

“Okay,” Tony began, slowly. “So, new plan-”

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

And Tony just _stopped_.

Whatever he’d been saying just died in his throat, his whole body frozen in place – his mouth still open.

And then he blinked, and closed his mouth, and screwed his eyes shut, and gave his head a little shake.

“O-_kaaaay_… but, first, we have to-”

“You thought Nat was beautiful, the first time you met her” Steve interjected, in a superior tone-

Because _he_ knew what he was talking about.

_He_ suddenly had a whole argument – or, at least, he had the _idea_ of an argument, and no understanding that it wasn’t the same thing. There was just this _thing_ he wanted to say, that he was completely confident he could say… That there was no reason not to say. No reason that occurred to him right now, anyway.

“…_yes_…” Tony conceded, confused. “But-”

“And it’s not a big deal, is it?” Steve asserted. “You can just say that, and it’s not a big deal, because obviously you think she’s beautiful, because she is beautiful, and no one would even blink if you said it. But if I’d ever said it about you, it would have been _such_ a big deal – it is a big deal – and why is that? Does _anyone_ ever tell you you’re beautiful? Is it just because it’s me saying it?”

Tony just stared at him, for a moment.

“Okay, so, I think we get you back to the room and get you _a lot_ of coffee” Tony carried on, sounding a little dazed now “And then – _oh, yay, more alcohol_” He switched abruptly to a loud, theatrical voice, suddenly talking just to the left of Steve-

To where Belle had reappeared, two new drinks in hand.

“Not nearly as strong as Eden” She soothed, handing a glass to Steve first-

And he just took it.

It smelled of cherries.

“Probably just as well” Tony answered, taking his own drink more hesitantly. “Not to show us up at the newbies that we are, but I think we might have overdone it already-”

“Nonsense” Belle smiled “_That_ is a human construct, meaningless here. Consider – none of the substances you take here are harmful, in anyway. You can’t overdose, you won’t have flashbacks, there won’t be long term damage to your heart or lungs. No one has ever had a bad trip. You won’t _even_ get a hangover. And, of course, you can’t embarrass yourselves here.” And she paused to give Tony a knowing look, like she was so pleased with herself for working out his real anxiety “We’re conditioned by shame, on earth. We use it as a voice to guide us without ever considering its authority. But here, there can be no consequences to your actions – no damage to your reputation, no chance to make poor life choices. Here, it is only you, and people who don’t know you, and the way you feel… so, you have to ask yourself what it is you’re afraid might happen?”

“…You’re not the one who’s going to have to carry _him_ up the stairs later” Tony joked weakly, scrabbling for a better argument.

“We have staff that will help you with that” Belle comforted him. And then there was the slightest flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You’re _not_ having a bad trip, are you?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that” Tony reassured her. “I guess it’s just… you know, new…”

And then a thoughtful look came over her face. There was a pause, while she contemplated.

“I’ve got just the thing for you” She announced, at last. And then she glanced between them. “Come with me.”

Steve looked at Tony.

Tony looked at Steve.

“Er…yeah.” Tony surrendered eventually. “Why not?”


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they got out into the corridor, it felt like there was a riot taking place in Tony’s brain.

For a start – _Steve was drunk_. Tony didn’t know where to begin processing that one. The fact that it shouldn’t happen. The fact that it _hadn’t _happened in over seventy years, and Steve may have no idea how to deal with it. The risk it posed, given that they were supposed to be undercover… and, apparently, he couldn’t be sure _what_ drunk Steve might say…

_You’re beautiful, you know?_

Was yet another point, yelling for attention in the general chaos of Tony’s head. Along with a feeling of guilt, that _he’d_ essentially gotten Steve drunk…

And for that a _teeny_ little part of him was still kinda thrilled by the idea of Steve being drunk…

Oh, and the fact that _maybe_ he was also a little bit drunk now – because, wow, that shot really had been strong.

_Christ, how much did Steve drink_…?

Okay. Okay. So. Tony was slightly tipsy, and had inadvertently gotten Steve very drunk, while on an undercover mission on an alien sex planet… the original point of which temporarily escaped him.

_This is fine._

And then Maribelle warned them to watch their step, as they turned into a room with _very_ low lighting-

And Tony was shocked to find the floor gave way beneath him, finally recognising that he’d stepped onto a giant mattress as he crashed, knees first, into it.

He heard Steve giggle behind him.

“Don’t worry, everyone does that when they first walk in” Maribelle assured him, offering him a hand up.

“_I_ didn’t” Steve commented, playfully. And Tony felt an immediate stab of longing, observing that Steve was actually kind of adorable when he was drunk-

_Not now. _

Tony forced himself to focus very hard on standing up, and looking at the room – which was, _thank God_, entirely empty. It was smaller than the other rooms they’d been in, and might’ve looked like a padded cell, if it weren’t so elaborately designed. As it was, the walls, floors and ceilings were covered in a fine, embroidered silk, the raised bench that lined the wall draped with luxury fabrics.

“We call this a soft room” Maribelle explained, as they all carefully stepped across the springy floor.

“Oh, why’s that?” Steve asked in an exaggerated, teasing tone.

“_Ignore him_” Tony cut in. “He thinks he’s cute.”

_I think he’s cute…_

_Not now, not now, not now._

“Also, no more drugs for now” Tony added, as he landed a bit too heavily on the bench behind him.

And then Steve dropped onto the seat next to him – way closer than he would normally have sat.

Close enough that it was harder _not_ to lean against him…

“Actually, I brought you here so we could _talk_ about the drugs” Maribelle explained, dropping to sit crossed legged on the floor in front of them, so that both Steve and Tony had to look down at her. “It’s fine, I spend so much time with everyone looking _up_ at me when I talk-”

“Because this way around is weird and uncomfortable?” Steve guessed. A laugh bubbled over Tony’s lips before he could stop it, more surprise than amusement, and he had to hastily drop his face into his hands.

“I’m sorry” He tried to say, through more inappropriate giggles.

“No, it’s nice to see you a bit more relaxed” Belle assured them “You’ve both seemed a little… _hesitant_, since you arrived – which is, of course, entirely normal. But still. Nice to think you may be settling in.”

“You’ve been watching us, then?” Steve slurred, his forehead creased in thought.

An alarm sounded in Tony’s head. Warning him to dissuade Steve from launching a full-on interrogation, in this state. He knew they were dangerously close to Steve forgetting they were supposed to be undercover at all…

Although, Tony had to admit, it was a pertinent question.

“We try to keep an eye on everyone – especially when they first arrive” Belle explained, without missing a beat. “Duty of care, and all that.”

“Why?” Steve demanded “I thought none o’these things could hurt you?”

“Nothing here can hurt you.” Belle assured, sweetly. “But, that doesn’t mean that people can never be upset here, or angry, or confused. In fact, some people even say that working through those things at the beginning is what allows you to experience other things, later on.”

Tony felt the same spike of adrenaline that he’d have felt, watching someone else walk a tightrope. The same desperation to balance something he had no actual control over. For the moment, it seemed that Belle really might be reading them as awkward and confused, that she might not be concerned… yet. But every time Steve opened his mouth, Tony braced for him to say something they wouldn’t be able to explain away. And there was only so much Tony could do to help, without making it obvious that something was going on…

“And, please tell me if I’m wrong, but it seems that you are both – like so many people who come here – a bit cautious, about letting some of your social assumptions go? Would it be fair to say, instinctively, you still feel that was is going on here is _wrong_, in some way?”

“You could say that, I suppose” Tony muttered, and Steve laughed again.

“You both carry a lot of responsibility.” This time it wasn’t a question “And you both have a rare obligation to be _right_. In the right. Morally right. It must be hard to do that all the time, without falling back on rules as shortcuts. And, I imagine, you both face a unique emotional pressure, when it comes to questioning those rules.”

And, just as Tony was thinking that was quite an involved idea for her to bother discussing with either of them right now, Steve casually observed,

“Technically, if we _both_ face it, it isn’t unique.”

Tony giggled again. And then mentally kicked himself.

But Belle just smiled

“You know, I think you two will benefit from being here more than anyone” She decided. And Steve huffed out a dry little laugh, _really, you think?_

And then he shifted his weight just slightly-

And then his head was on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony felt his spine straighten up from under him. His whole body froze. But it wasn’t a panicked reaction, or a shocked reaction – even though there was still quite a bit of both, going on the background of this situation. Tony’s instinct to stay still right then was more like the reaction he would’ve had if a baby deer had wandered into his workshop. An instinct not to startle Steve, not to shatter the moment… an immediate understanding that this didn’t usually happen, that this was special and important and not to be disturbed. He was suddenly so aware of himself, like he could feel every inch of his skin… that heavy warmth of Steve there at his side… And there was an elated, irrational terror in him, something that didn’t feel like alcohol and didn’t _feel_ like drug-fucked-

It felt a lot like being an infatuated teenager, whose heart-felt crush – the guy who didn’t even know he existed – has just _casually _put his arm around him. The same intensity of physical reaction and mental anxiety, the same weakening in his legs and the same desperation as he told himself, _don’t get carried away, don’t fuck it up, don’t even move_.

Which he tried to tell himself _was_ the drugs… but also - _OMG Steve Rogers LITERALLY has his head on my shoulder right now asdfsgdhshs !!!!_

That’s it. He’d started thinking in emoji’s. He really had to concentrate.

“Just one moment” Belle smiled – expertly getting to her feet in a single fluid motion, before she took a few steps closer to the door, to gesture to someone standing just outside. And Tony knew he should probably be more concerned about that… but, to be perfectly honest, talking to Steve seemed a more effective use of this minor reprieve.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered, _very_ softly, once he was sure Maribelle was distracted.

“Being your boyfriend” Steve answered, as though that should’ve been perfectly obvious.

And.

Well.

Technically-

“Now, just so you know – we don’t approve of shaming people into taking these drugs, any more than we approve of shaming people out of it.” Belle explained, walking over to them again. But she didn’t sit “So, this shouldn't be taken as an encouragement to do anything you don’t want to, or any pressure to do something you aren’t comfortable with. This is just so that you know your options, and that they’re available to you.”

The blonde guy walked into the room, carrying yet another tray. Behind him was a redhaired woman, holding a polished wooden panel, a little larger than a pillow. Tony’s eyes naturally followed them, and their activity, as Belle carried on talking – his attention still mainly focused on his own shoulder.

“I gather, you don’t usually get drunk, when you’re drinking like this?” Belle asked Steve directly, as the redhead unfolded four little legs from beneath the panel – thin, and long, and sharp, like needles…

“I don’t get drunk at all ever” Steve answered easily, as the redhead knelt to drive the spikes into the floor, rooting the makeshift table in place. _Oh, I see… that’s quite clever- _

“Because you don’t usually drink like this?” Belle enquired.

“Wouldn’t matter if I did. It’s a serum thing. I can’t drink enough to get drunk, usually.” Steve explained, fluidly – which brought Tony’s attention back to the conversation. He made a quick tally of how much of their backstory was public knowledge, and how much he’d have to step in to stop Steve blabbing about.

“Well, _these_ actually aren’t alcohol” Belle carried on, gesturing to the tray that the blonde guy had just set down on the panel. Tony looked at the neat lines of shot glasses, a rainbow of cherry reds and midnight blues and soft, candy pinks – they _looked_ like alcohol... “These are actually entirely natural, blended from elements found here and on earth. Compounds that don’t exist outside of The Facility, on earth or New Eden – and therefore, substances there can be no value judgement of.”

And Tony would’ve liked to analyse the science of that. It might’ve helped to analyse the sociology or morality of it, if only so that he could answer her. He would’ve liked himself more, if he’d been immediately repulsed to hear this coloniser and slave driver call a conquered land by a new name. This would have been a good moment to remember the importance of what they were doing, the relative insignificance of anything else that was going on.

But Steve’s head was still on his shoulder.

And there was that growing, giddy excitement at the idea that Steve was literally pretending to be his boyfriend right now, that they were supposed to be-

It was hard enough to even listen to what Belle was saying. Analysing any of it could fuck right off.

“So, all I’m going to do is explain what these are, and then I’m going to leave you be, and you can spend some time alone, away from the noise of The Facility – and take as much time as you need to think about it, and decide what you want.” …And as Belle was speaking, Steve’s head had grown ever heavier against Tony’s shoulder… “And, of course, there are people just outside, if you have any other questions, or if you’d like anything else.”

…And Steve put his feet up on the bench beside him

…And just _let_ his head slip off of Tony’s shoulder

…And into his lap.

“So, what do you think?” Maribelle finished brightly.

“Sounds good” Tony squeaked – with literally no fucking clue what he was agreeing to.

_Steve is lying in my lap, Steve is lying in my lap, Steve is lying in my lap_

And, Jesus, he did try to pay attention to what Belle was telling them. But for the first few minutes he was too completely distracted by the question of what he could do with his hands, rather than flexing them awkwardly at his sides in a desperate attempt not to touch Steve’s hair.

_Although..._

_I am literally supposed to be his boyfriend…_

_And he is lying in my lap…_

And Maribelle was going on about salt reacting with the water here, or something equally ridiculous, and Tony was nodding entirely at random, and_…_

Very carefully, Tony put a gentle hand on the back of Steve’s head

_God, his hair is so soft-_

“So, any questions?” Maribelle asked.

“Uh, no, nothing I can think of” Tony croaked – because there was _literally_ nothing he could think of, at all.

“Great, okay, well, Joost and Zoe will be just outside if you need anything – just give them a call.” She smiled, gesturing to the doorway. “I’ll probably be passing this way again in an hour or so, so I’ll check in again, and see how you are.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you – thank you for all of this.” Tony babbled, still more interested the fact that he was _playing with Steve’s hair-_

“It’s fine, really. It’s what we do.” She beamed, and then gave a little nod “Enjoy your evening.” And she left.

And then it was just the two of them.

And for maybe a minute, nothing moved. Even the thoughts in Tony’s head stopped still, like the whole universe had called a minutes silence in respect for this impossible event. He just let Steve lie there, his fingers still threaded through Steve’s hair, and he didn’t think at all.

And then his eyes happened to catch on the tray, sitting ominously at the very corner of his vision. It occurred to him that he really didn’t know what any of those drinks were – and that that was _ridiculous._

_Okay, it’s completely unacceptable that you’ve just missed important, mission relevant information because you feel lovesick and drug fucked. _

He took his hand away, and took a little breath. He resolved to outthink this intoxication.

_You cannot tell a whole race of people that you let them down because Steve Rogers let you play with his hair._

_And you can’t just melt the second Steve shows you a moments drunken attention. After everything he did, and with everything you know about who he really is, and now that you know exactly how much he cares about you– you can’t be excited now that he’s humouring you_ .  _ He never even apologised._

_He doesn’t even really like you. He’ll sober up in a minute and this will just be something that was… done to him_

Instinctively, he knew he’d have more luck snapping himself out of this if he thought of Siberia than if he thought of Anni-Vara. Which was horrible, obviously, and probably meant that he was a shallow, self-interested asshole – but those were the facts he was dealing with. The plight of a whole alien race probably wouldn’t be enough to tear him out of this moment… if it had been real. But remembering it wasn’t… remembering that moment, when he asked Steve _did you know?_ The way his desperate, agonising hope had burned out and collapsed into despair as he realised Steve really wasn’t going to say no, of course he didn’t, he was sorry… Surely thinking of that would be enough to smother this feeling. Just thinking of that moment had always crushed any feeling out of Tony’s chest, ever since it happened…

So he made himself look down, to where Steve was still just lying quite comfortably, his eyes soft and his hair all messed up…

Tony even tried thinking back to the bunker. To the moments _after_ Steve walked away from him, when Tony had just curled up on the floor and cried, genuinely fearful that the pain in his heart would kill him. A moment he’d trained himself to _never_ think of, a memory that always had the power to just drag all the air from his lungs and flood him with misery-

But no. Even that didn’t stop him wanting to touch Steve right now.

…It wasn’t even that the memory didn’t hurt anymore.

…It was just that it didn’t feel relevant, to this.

But – it had done _something_ to snap him out of his haze. Well, enough that he was now feeling slightly confused and uncomfortable about his own desires, rather than lovestruck and dizzy… That was closer to the appropriate response, right?

“We’ll give it a few minutes and we’ll head back to the room” Tony said, eventually.

“Why?” Steve’s voice was warm, and heavy.

“Because you are _very_ drunk, and technically we’re still on a mission.” Tony explained, slipping into the same careful, appeasing tone Jarvis used on him when he was a teenager.

“So, we have to sit in an empty room on this alien planet until I’m sober again?”

“Why, what would you rather do?” Tony sighed. He knew from too much experience that it was always better to engage a drunk than try to argue with him.

“But we are already sitting in an empty room, on an alien planet, is my point” Steve answered. And Tony couldn’t help a little smile, even through his discomfort.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

And, now that Tony really thought about it… He couldn’t exactly lock Steve in the bedroom, as soon as they got back to the suite. He would be in the same awkwardly-stuck-with-drunk-Steve situation in either place… actually, now that he was visualising the suite… that might even be worse.

“You’d rather stay here?”

“I’d rather not move at all” Steve groaned…and then sort of _pouted_…

Tony felt a queasy little turning in his stomach that he wasn’t sure he liked. The distinct feeling that he was experiencing two reactions that couldn’t happen together. Somehow, he’d managed to half talk himself out of liking Steve. He’d reminded himself of all the hurt Steve had caused him, and still there was this deep, empty longing… His body didn’t know whether to melt at how soft Steve’s lips were or harden at the memory of Steve _just walking away from him_…Whether he hated himself for throwing cold water on this moment, or for falling for it in the first place.

Well. Now he felt anxious and uncertain and basically unhappy. Good.

Good.

“I carried your dad home drunk.” Steve slurred, like he was remembering out loud “Twice.”

“Ha. Funny, I thought he must’ve told me _all_ his Captain America stories” Tony commented, joylessly.

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say” Steve said, so sincerely, suddenly looking up at Tony with wide, blue eyes.

“S’alright.” Tony managed a smile, even though he _had_ just been thinking that it was a stupid thing to say. He minded less, when Steve looked at him like that… like he cared if he’d hurt Tony’s feelings. Like he’d bothered to think about what Tony might hear, and not just what he wanted to say. In fact, on the strength of Steve’s sincerity alone, Tony had the sudden inspiration to add “You don’t have to never mention my dad, you know”

“Well, I wish I hadn’t mentioned your dad, especially because now I can’t think of anything to say that isn’t about your dad.” Steve babbled, and Tony felt his smile warm into something a bit more genuine.

“Well, he could never think of anything to say that wasn’t about you, if that makes you feel any better” Tony added, as a meaningless piece of neutral chatter.

He wished he could decide what mood he was in.

Whether to just go with this. To accept it didn’t count, that it couldn’t possibly mean anything, that Steve probably wouldn’t even remember it… To just let it go for a night, enjoy this rare opportunity to have a drunken conversation with Steve… to treat it as a fantasy, entirely unconnected to the real world. Enjoy it because it was fun at the time.

Or whether he was still too hurt to let it go, even now. If he was too upset to enjoy himself in this moment. If doing this, or even _wanting_ to do this, made him pathetic and needy – if that was how he was going to feel in the morning, when Steve dismissed him again and Tony was faced with unavoidable proof that he still cared.

And Tony _still_ wanted to touch Steve, just to… and he couldn’t decide whether it was okay to want that for a moment, and go with it, or whether it was bitterly fucking typical, and he should just go ahead and hate himself for that too.

“Yeah, I really don’t know what that was about, by the way” Steve told him, somewhat enthusiastically “Your dad didn’t even like me that much, I swear – well, he never acted much like he did…”

“Well, in that case he liked you a lot more after you died” Tony sighed “So, I don’t know, maybe that _does_ mean he didn’t like you, thinking about it…”

“But really though” Steve carried on – completely missing the joke “We didn’t actually spend that much time together. It wasn’t like you and me, we didn’t– I mean, we did work together, but I don’t know what stories he could possibly have that he didn’t just read somewhere else, you know?”

Tony felt a bitter little kick at that.

_It wasn’t like you and me._

Could he really let that go?

“You know, when I fucked up as a kid, sometimes my dad would yell at me, ‘_how do you think Captain America would feel, knowing he died for a spoilt brat like you’_” Tony commented acerbically, still not entirely sure what tone he was going for “He used to say you’d be mortally disappointed if you ever met me, and how you would immediately call me out for being a shallow smart-ass, _somehow_ put me in my place, and never once be fooled by any of my lazy charm.”

“Well, he was wrong-”

“Well, in complete fairness to the old guy, that is literally what happened when you met me, almost scene for scene. Not all of his predictions were accurate, or even coherent, but I think we have to give him that one.”

And then he glanced down at Steve – who looked so honestly devastated that Tony completely lost his train of thought.

Wow.

…He really hadn’t expected Steve to-

And now he felt bad.

In fact, belatedly, he recognised exactly what he was doing – and how childish, and unhelpful, it was. He couldn’t commit to being angry with Steve enough to argue with him, and he couldn’t commit to liking Steve enough to just go with the moment… so he’d gone for the middle ground, and jabbed at him. And it was completely unnecessary, especially as Steve was drunk, and that wasn’t even his fault.

Oh, he…

Had to just let this go, right now.

There, that was that decision made.

“I’m sorry, _that_ was a stupid thing to say” Tony exhaled. “And I’m not even drunk. I’m just being an asshole.”

“I _would_ die for you, Tony”

Tony felt it like a kick in the gut.

_God, in the full on Captain America Speech voice and everything-_

“I know” Tony answered, pretending to be casual. Well, trying.

“You don’t believe me” Steve sounded so…hurt?

“I do, actually.” Tony sighed, and made himself look at Steve again “I have literally no doubt that you’d take a bullet for me. I mean that.”

“Yeah, but you just mean like I’d take a bullet for anyone” Steve pouted.

“What, you mean you’d die for me more than you’d die for other people?” Tony quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yes” Steve said it so seriously that Tony had to laugh.

“I don’t think that’s how dead works, Cap. I think when you’re dead, you’re dead.” He observed. “But I still know you’d be dead for me, and that’s still a big thing. So, you know, I do believe you”

“I’d die if it would make you happy”

And Tony had to pinch his lips together to keep from giggling – just because it sounded so dramatic. It was an entirely affectionate impulse, listening to Steve talk emotional nonsense while drunk, endeared at how sincerely he meant it in the moment.

_Why couldn’t it have been like this, just once, before…_

“Because I can’t get drunk on earth.” Steve answered, matter-of-factly – because apparently Tony had said that out loud.

_Oops_.

“I don’t even mean drunk, I just mean…” Tony blushed, trying to think how he could rescue this “I don’t know. We never got to talk all that much, I guess is all I mean.”

“I wanted to talk to you. All the time. Still.”

“So why didn’t you?” Tony asked, before he could think to stop himself.

“Because… I don’t know, it’s like that thing, with your dad. Like how I acted when I met you ended up proving your dad ‘right’ about a whole load of …ridiculous things, and it wasn’t even about you. I didn’t even know you then. That was just because I was… scared… and really angry, I think… I don’t remember, and I don’t really know what I was angry _at_, but I remember breaking a lot of punching bags…”

A thoughtful look came into Steve’s eyes for a second – not sad, exactly… but somehow sad to look at… And then, just as Tony thought the pause had drifted into a stop, Steve blinked, and carried on,

“But my point is, that isn’t anyone else’s fault, and I know it isn’t, so you don’t put that on other people – I was raised on that, and most of the time I tried to stick with that, but then New York happened, and I met you, and… I don’t know. I was angry when I talked to you, which isn’t the same as you making me angry. And instead of pretending I wasn’t, I just… I don’t know, I don’t remember over thinking all that much when New York was happening, maybe I did… But I feel like that _was_ me just ‘being’_,_ and… I don’t know, all this ‘show your feelings’ stuff, and ‘say what you’re thinking at the time’ and ‘be honest with people’ is probably okay if you aren’t a complete nervous wreck _all_ the time, or thinking loads of things you don’t really think, or not thinking at all…” He sighed, and looked at Tony again “But I _was_ a nervous wreck in general, and angry all the time, and I didn’t know what I thought, and I never knew if I’d still think the things I’d said, in the morning, or if it would just be the mood I was in… And I know, it sounds really simple, _just talk to people anyway_ – but I did that once, when I first met you, and I think it literally ruined my life, and probably could’ve ended the whole world, and might have _proven your dad right_…” Steve pulled a face, like he’d bitten into something sour. “And that was how you saw me after that, and that was where we started, because of that – _because_ I just talked to people when I was angry and just said things without thinking what I was really thinking… So, _then_ I thought, you know, I would try to…undo that, by not doing that again… but I didn’t really know what to do instead, so…”

And that time the pause did drift into a stop.

“Did you ever talk to anyone?” Tony asked, cautiously. There was a rising feeling of discomfort in him… an anxiety about what he was about to find out. “When you came out of the ice, or, since then, I don’t know… I mean, did you ever speak to a therapist, or-” But Steve had physically flinched at the sound of the word, shocking Tony to a stop.

“Oh, no, no, no – no more therapists.” Steve shook his head, his face pinched in distaste. _Yuk._

“…Is that a forties thing, or…?” Tony pressed, oh so carefully

“No, that’s a Hydra thing” Steve corrected.

And that threw Tony, for just a second.

“A Hydra thing?” He repeated, gently. “You mean, in case your therapist works for Hydra…?”

“I mean, in case my therapist _did_ work for Hydra” Steve explained. “Because she worked for SHIELD, so who knows? I mean, I know everyone can’t believe we didn’t know that the strike team were Hydra, because they ‘looked evil’ or whatever, but all jokes aside – we went out for drinks with Rumlow. Do you remember Ali, who had the baby with the breathing problem, and you paid for an operation and his wife made you cookies? _He_ worked for Hydra. So, maybe my therapist _did_ work for Hydra, or maybe she didn’t but her boss did, and they read all my notes anyway… and I sometimes wonder if that’s how they knew things, like about Bucky or – _Sorry_” His eyes suddenly flashed in alarm, locked on Tony’s, scanning nervously for a response.

“No, it’s okay, you can keep talking” Tony whispered, immediately. Instinctively. It took him a few seconds to realise what Steve was even apologising _for_, and when he figured it out… _Oh, God Steve, that doesn’t matter right now… _“You don’t have to never mention Bucky again either, you know.”

Because in that moment, Tony really _didn’t_ care about Bucky, or his parents, or any of it. He was so thoroughly shaken by the basic awfulness of this… the fact that Steve had been bothered by this, probably since SHIELD fell, and Tony _never_ would’ve thought of it.

_…How many other things are there?_

_…How many consequences of being completely alone in the world, that you’d just never consider_

_…All those ways it was different for him, that you never thought of_

Tony was overwhelmed with such sadness for Steve, such pain to think what he’d been through – in that moment he’d have promised Steve anything. He’d have told him Bucky could move into the compound, if it would’ve helped.

If it would’ve kept Steve talking about this.

But Steve just shook his head and outright asked,

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

And Tony knew better than to push it. As much as he still thought Steve should talk about this, he knew better than to try and force him when he was drunk.

“Yeah, if you like” Tony breathed-

And let his hand fall onto the back of Steve’s hair, again.

*

In the end, Maribelle hadn’t wandered by the soft room again for another three hours – although Tony wouldn’t have known that, if she hadn’t ratted herself out by apologising for it.

By then, Steve had fallen into a gentle doze on his lap, and Tony had kind of lost himself in this rare opportunity to just look at him… He was quite sincere when he told Belle that he didn’t mind. That he’d barely noticed it getting later.

But Belle arriving had woken Steve up. And, when Steve realised she was talking to them, he sat up… leaving a cold feeling on Tony’s legs and all through his stomach…

Which did at least wake Tony up a bit, too. Enough for him to notice the uncomfortable frown on Steve’s face as he tried to place his surroundings, the way he leant awkwardly against the back of the bench, because, really, he just wanted to lie down again… Tony empathised with that feeling – he _remembered_ it. That time in the evening when all you wanted to do was get home to bed…

_Moment over._

_Back to the real world._

“C’mon” He whispered, when Belle left them again. “Time for bed.” And this time, Steve didn’t argue. He just nodded his head, and rubbed his eyes, and took a few seconds too long finding his feet on the soft floor. Tony put a hand out to steady him, and Steve caught his eye, blushing hard enough that Tony could see it even in _this_ lighting.

“I, uh… feel like I should probably be apologising now-”

“It’s called beer fear” Tony smiled “You didn’t get that, when you were drinking before the serum?” And Tony saw a little memory flicker behind Steve’s eyes, and the ghost of a smile.

“We called it ‘The Fear’, now that you mention it – it’d forgotten that.”

“You didn’t do anything bad” Tony assured him kindly. “I mean, the last time _I_ got drunk I put the suit on, blew up my own house party and then robot-fought Rhodey in the gym – so, I don’t know, maybe that doesn’t mean anything coming from me…But I’m the only one here. So.”

Steve smiled at him, still blushing. It was pretty. Tony made the impulsive decision that ‘the moment’ didn’t actually have to end until they got back to their suite and reached down to take Steve’s hand –

Just to help him walk out of this room, of course.

Except that Steve didn’t let his hand go, when they got into the corridor…So… Tony didn’t either… And he wasn’t leading Steve up the corridor, or helping keep him upright… They were just… walking, holding hands…

Tony felt a genuine sadness well up in him, when he finally had to let go to open their door. A sweet sort of sadness, but still… he had a feeling that it was just going to keep on cooling into regular sadness, from here. But he managed a smile as he stood aside to let Steve through, and he vowed to wait until Steve was asleep before he did anything silly, like think about any of this. Or cry.

“I’d tell you to drink water, but the water here is full of drugs” Tony joked, weakly. “And apparently the alcohol here is hangover free anyway, so…” But Steve had just stopped, a few feet from the bedroom door… and Tony could see him thinking … “Are you okay?”

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asked, very quietly.

“Yeah, of course”

“…But, you have to actually answer it. You can’t just say the thing you’re supposed to say”

Tony couldn’t tell whether Steve still sounded drunk or not.

“I never say what I’m supposed to say.” Tony told him. “What do you want to ask?”

“…Do you think, on balance, just, the way things turned out… Do you think it would’ve been better if they’d never woken me up?”

Tony felt his mouth fall open.

“What?”

“But if you were going to _actually_ answer it, if you thought about it – I mean…” Steve sighed, sounding almost defeated, “If _you_ hadn’t been there in New York, then that nuke would’ve gone off, and all those people would’ve died. There was no one else that could’ve – that would’ve thought of… And, I’m not saying I did nothing. I just know that, if I hadn’t been there… You’d have made it work, somehow. As long as _you_ were there, essentially, I just… know that you’d have found out about Hydra, and Bucky, and all of that, if I’d not gotten there first – I always knew that. You were trying to investigate SHIELD when I first met you… when I told you off for… I just… Think, sometimes, that if I’d just…died, in that crash… then all the things I helped to do would still have happened – but maybe not the things I broke-”

“Steve.” Tony cut him off, firmly. “Okay, you asked me a question, and – no. I am absolutely sure, it would not have been better if you’d died in that crash.”

“You would never have met me. None of… this, would’ve happened… you wouldn’t even know-”

“I wouldn’t know what I was missing, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be missing out” Tony argued – and then, when he realised that’d been a bit close to some line, he added “You could say that about anyone you cared about”

“But I’m not asking _anyone_, I’m asking you.”

“…And I’m telling you, no. I don’t think that, no.” Tony answered, and Steve looked at him so hopelessly, Tony could tell – “You don’t believe me.”

And Steve took a deep breath, and looked at the floor.

“I’m just not sure you’re right, in that case.” He sighed. And before Tony could say anything else, Steve just turned away and walked into the bedroom.

Tony heard the little thud, as the dead weight of Steve hit the bed. He knew that Steve would be asleep within a minute… And he told himself that was a good thing.

Steve would sleep it off, and feel better in the morning…

And then there was a soft, sharp, whooshing sound, just by the door.

Tony felt himself jolt to attention, every hair standing on end as he tried to place that little noise. And then he picked out the shiny red envelope, sitting on the floor a few feet into the room. Belatedly, he recognised the sound of it being slid under the door, and relaxed just a little – but he still made sure to scan it before he bent to pick it up, _very _carefully.

Their names were embossed on the envelope in gold. Inside was a folded card, handwritten in black ink-

_You are cordially invited to the Perfect Fantasies Party, to be held in the Third Floor ball room, on the night of the 19th…_

Tony folded the card, and slid it back into the envelope.

Well, something about the night had gone right, at least.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve woke up suddenly at six the next morning, and was immediately anxious.

_Oh, why do I feel guilty?_

_What did I do?_

_…Why don’t I remember what I did?_

Oh, yeah… Because he was _drunk_.

And just that was enough to make his toes curl – in an oddly familiar, almost nostalgic way, actually. God, it’d been _years_ since he’d felt that perfectly human anxiety of wondering whether he’d gone too far, not knowing what he did the night before…

_It’s called beer fear._

And then Steve felt his stomach drop, as he remembered that he’d been drunk in front of _Tony_…

Oh, and then an unsettling collection of images… little fragments of conversation that he wasn’t sure he wanted to thread together…

Tony telling him it was okay if he talked about Bucky – oh, why the fuck had they been talking about Bucky? What had he said?

_Oh, God, why were we talking about his dad?_

_…His dad and Bucky? Really? I got drunk and that’s what I-_

_Oh Jesus Christ I asked him if he wished I was dead._

The last one really got him. It just felt so… whiney, and needy, and…_drunk._ And, oh, he wished he could remember what he’d _actually_ said, rather than that hazy outline and the vague caption, _Steve petulantly asks Tony ‘Do you hate me now’_?

He grabbed one of the pillows and threw it over his face. He thought back to the comedy farce movies that the troops watched in the forties, the hopeless hero making an ever-bigger mess as he tried to deal with a catastrophe of his own making… Steve had never liked those movies. They irritated him. And now he found himself trapped in a farce of his own making, increasingly desperate to repair the escalating damage he was causing, apparently unable to _just stop doing things_-

_Oh… I was lying in his lap._

Steve actually groaned into the pillow. Oh, God, how had that even happened? He remembered _being_ in Tony’s lap, but not what could have possessed him to – what pretence he could possibly have – oh, fuck, what had he said?

…Was Tony actually playing with his hair, or had he dreamed that?

Arg. Everything was _awful_. Everything was just… _ruined_, and… complicated, and _messy_, and, just… _really_ poorly timed-

God, Steve really _had_ planned to talk to Tony about the hurt he’d caused him. Really. He was going to tell Tony that he was sorry, and acknowledge that he’d had it all wrong up until now, just as soon as they got home, he really _would _have… Well, that, or accepted that he just wasn’t up to it, and not good enough for Tony, and not deserving of the effort-

But, Jesus, either of those would’ve been better than getting drunk and childishly demanding that Tony reassure _him_ like that. Literally asking if Tony wanted him dead. Talk about dramatic. And entitled – he might as well have asked Tony, _tell me I’m good_. He fucking well might’ve, for all he knew… _oh God_, after everything, even _after_ Tony had told him how hurt he’d been, and Steve still hadn’t said sorry-

_Oh, why can’t I just stop fucking this up?_

_Even if this can’t ever be made better-_

_How do I just keep making this worse?_

He took the pillow away, and looked up at the door, expecting the room to spin when he did it – but no. It seemed at least one of The Facility’s promises could be taken at face value; he was entirely hangover free. Well, physically at least. His vision was fine, and his body didn’t ache, and his head was unnervingly clear, actually… He had no problem thinking _now_. He had no problem over thinking, now. But unfortunately, no amount of thought after the fact could replace the memories he hadn’t formed at the time, or make sense of things he’d done when his head was fuzzy, or undo any of the choices he’d made while under the influence. And having a perfectly sober head with which to remember a completely wasted head was not a good mix. It just meant he was far too aware of-

_Oh, Sweet Jesus Fuck I called him beautiful_.

Oh… There was a whole, rambling _thing_ about Natasha, and everything.

This time he pulled the cover over his head. He wished he could just _disappear_.

Helpfully, his brain decided now would be a good time to pick at this wound. Maybe it recognised that no amount of thinking or planning or Captain America-ing it would _help_ – so, fuck it, why not have a look at how bad this really is, just for the fun.

_How did the mission go?_

_Oh, great, thanks for asking – we ended up at an orgy and refused to make eye contact for 48 hours. Then Tony finally outright told me exactly how I’d hurt him, which was useful, because I wasn’t there at the time and I’ve not had two years to think about it and Tony hasn’t been walking around being quite obviously hurt right in front of my eyeballs for six months. So, after the earth shattering revelation that I had, in fact, hurt his feelings, I said fuck all – because it turned out we were being truth serum’d, and I was scared I’d tell him how much I want to fuck him. Then I got drunk, possibly came on to him, then whined at him to tell me he wasn’t mad at me for hurting his feelings – which I hadn’t acknowledged, because of the aforementioned wanting-to-fuck-him conundrum. _

_Oh, and in the middle of that somewhere I dry humped him. _

_No idea what happened to the aliens. _

He tried to picture it as a panel in the comic books. A boldly outlined drawing of him, lying there in yesterdays clothes, with all _that_ in a thought bubble above his head.

_Meanwhile, back in the alien slave camp._

…It was a perversely comforting thought.

Centring, at least. He wasn’t sure of very much at the moment, but it still seemed fairly straight forward what needed to be done about the situation on Anni Vara. What Captain America would do about that.

There was a neat little trick they used in the comic books, where they just didn’t _show_ certain parts. The necessarily complicated bits of life, the bits where they might’ve had to express a divisive opinion or admit to a compromise… what happened to the ‘Germans’ in some of those scenes, what were the consequences of that moral stand, what happened to those background characters… just ‘left to the imagination’. The comic book writers would simply have left this bit out. Started the story with Steve fully dressed and mission focused, and seeing Tony, and … [Scene missing] and then heroically liberating an alien race.

And Steve did know that, when he left this room and came face to face with Tony, that scene would happen. There would be no fast-forwarding it, or erasing it after the fact. And Steve didn’t know what the fuck he was going to say, and he knew it was going to be awful.

But, if it was going to get him out of bed, if it was going to get him through this whole thing, he could cut that scene for a minute.

He’d just have to …_cut_, this whole thing. He’d just have to cut himself off from it, or cut it out of himself, or… whatever he had to do, to get this job done.

It was the only way he could do it sometimes. It was the only way to make it fit.

*

By the time Steve made it out of the bedroom it was seven thirty – and Tony was just pouring his third cup of coffee.

Tony’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the door open, and then returned with a vengeance as he heard those familiar padding footsteps approach. And then he glanced up. And there was Steve

He’d spent seven years wishing he knew what Steve was thinking… how he felt. And now, for the first time ever, Tony knew _exactly_ how Steve was feeling – and he almost wished he didn’t. It was stupid… but he kind of wished he didn’t already know how little he could do to help, right now.

He didn’t think for a second that Steve had done _anything_ wrong, last night – but he knew from too much experience that it didn’t actually matter. He remembered _so_ many mornings after. Mornings after he’d said too much. Mornings after he’d gotten too emotional. Mornings after he’d been too enthusiastic, or too obsessed on one topic, or too over the top with his language… The creeping shame the next day was always the same. The uneasiness of not understanding his own actions, not remembering exactly how he got there. Even if he hadn’t done anything destructive or said anything embarrassing or shared anything that people didn’t already know… he’d still feel that nakedness of having said something he just wouldn’t have said. The lack of control, the lack of ownership of his own mind, or body, or something.

And, before Steve woke up, Tony had been considering a whole range of possibilities. Steve was a very different person to him, after all. Maybe he would feel entirely different to how Tony would feel… It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had completely different reactions to the same thing. So, Tony _had_ been thinking about what he might say, if Steve was just more rational about this stuff, or more distanced, or… well, any reaction where they might’ve had a real conversation, this morning. Tony had spent a good few hours thinking about what he _might_ say, if Steve did happen to wake up in the mood to talk. Or, if there had even been any doubt in Tony’s mind either way – if he just hadn’t _known_ how Steve was feeling, maybe he’d have given it a go anyway.

But it took one glance for Tony to be completely sure… He knew exactly how Steve was feeling. He’d been there. That uneasiness in his own skin, the shapeless, irrational shame that he couldn’t find to talk himself out of. And that strange paranoia, knowing other people had memories of him that he didn’t have for himself – the unnatural feeling, having to ask someone else what _he_ had said and done...

And Tony _knew_ there was no point in talking to Steve about anything right now.

Tony knew that if he tried to talk to Steve calmly, and kindly, and if he led in with all those reassurances that he wasn’t mad, and Steve had done nothing wrong… _just_ like Jarvis had always done with him… Then Steve would feel exactly the same as Tony had, when Jarvis did it. He’d feel even more guilty. He’d feel even more embarrassed, and even more eager to run from it, because _God, now it’s a big deal with an intervention and everything…_

And Tony knew that if he tried to talk to Steve firmly, and maturely, and led in with a bunch of confident assertions about fixing these issues and helping Steve in the long run… just like his dad used to… Then Steve would no doubt feel like shit afterwards, just like Tony always did. And he’d resent Tony for telling him what _he’d_ meant while he was drunk. And he’d feel like any apology or concession he _did_ make would just validate Tony’s heavy handed and bossy approach. And, hey, he had as much right as Tony had ever had to think, _Judgement coming from you, you hypocrite?_

And Tony even knew that if, somehow, by fluke, he managed to do what Rhodey or Pepper occasionally pulled off, and got Steve to say _something_… Steve wouldn’t actually feel better for it. Tony might feel better, the way he hoped Rhodey and Pepper did, when he relented and threw them a bone for their efforts. But really Steve would be uncomfortable in what he was saying, selecting the least awkward topic to sacrifice, thinking about the reaction he should be showing rather than the one he was really having. He’d be having the whole conversation through that prism of shame and judgement and doubt…

And that wasn’t how _this_ conversation should happen.

Not just because _Tony_ was anxious to get it done.

So, even though he was worried about Steve, and even though he still felt for Steve, and even though he didn’t feel like this was a good option… he still knew it was the best option, when he just winced, playfully, and said,

“I _feel_ like I should apologise to you, right now.”

“To me?” Steve blinked, genuinely taken aback.

“For intentionally getting you wasted” Tony sighed. And then, when Steve frowned at him, he added “I know, it’s ridiculous, and that’s what we were there to do and neither of us could know, blah, blah, blah… I dunno, habit probably. I just… feel like I should say sorry right now” He shrugged. He saw Steve pinch back a smile.

“Yeah, that is ridiculous” He muttered.

“Um-hm, so why have you got that puppy-caught-in-the-pantry look on your face?” Tony teased. And Steve blushed. And smiled, self-consciously, and dropped his eyes… “This must be the weirdest beer fear ever, huh?” Tony mused, his tone light and interested. Steve glanced up at him again.

“Hm?”

“Well, normally what you’re feeling bad for is getting drunk in the first place. Even if you didn’t do anything, you wake up and think, why didn’t I stop before the Tequila Slammers?” Tony explained. “But you know why you didn’t stop before the Tequila Slammers, and you can’t actually feel bad for getting drunk, and you didn’t even _do_ anything…so, what, you just… feel bad?”

“…Kind of” Steve admitted, with a self-depreciating little wince.

“Do you have a hang over?” Tony went on, casually.

“Oh, uh, no, actually. I feel… well, not _normal_, exactly, but, I mean, physically I’m… fine…”

“Hm. You know, sad though it is, I can see a human corporation enslaving an alien race for that secret alone.” Tony observed. A more serious expression crossed Steve’s face.

“Hangover free alcohol?” He clarified.

“Human beings enslaved millions of their own people for sugar and tobacco” Tony reminded him “Hangover free alcohol would probably be as valuable, in today’s economy.”

Steve huffed out a sad little sigh, and nodded.

“Not to mention all the other drugs and resources” He added, bitterly.

“Power” Tony shrugged “That’s all it ever comes down to, in the end. Having more stuff than the next guy, more land, more influence, whatever – there are probably a handful of people on any planet, prepared to go too far, for that…”

…Because, well, even if Steve didn’t want to talk about last night, he _might_ want to talk about-

“You think that’s all it is?” Steve snapped the conversation firmly back to the specific mission “You think they _are_ just using this place to develop drugs for profit?”

-Nope, apparently Steve didn’t want a deep conversation of any kind at the moment.

That was fine.

It didn’t have to be now.

…_It probably shouldn’t be you, anyway-_

“I don’t know.” Tony exhaled. “But I think it’s a possibility, at least. One power hungry scientist stumbles across an alien world ripe with natural riches. Uses the people here as slaves to harvest and develop them. Maybe The Facility is just a testing ground, or a focus group, or something…”

“But Zan did mention a bigger project.”

“Yeah, I keep thinking back to that.” Tony admitted. “And, you know, there are a lot of bigger projects this could potentially lead to.”

“If they’ve weaponised these drugs against the local population-”

“-Then weapons have already occurred to them.” Tony finished for him with a sigh. “And weapon tech tends to appeal to people who want money and power” He pulled what he hoped was a teasing expression when he said it, intending it as a harmless joke at his own expense.

But Steve fixed him with a strangely… _knowing_, look, before he said.

“Well, maybe we could go and explain to them that they’re hurting people, and they will immediately understand our argument and feel terrible for what they’ve done, and close up shop, and offer whatever help that can to make it right.” He suggested, wryly. And even then, it took a second for Tony to register what Steve was getting at. He’d already moved onto the next filler sentence,

“Yeah, but as that doesn’t seem very likely…” before he realised…

“Yeah, that’d be pretty incredible, wouldn’t it?” Steve said, looking right at him. “_No one_ does that, do they?”

…Steve meant _him._

And…

Tony didn’t know what to say.

Wow.

_This_ never happens…

“Well, we might have another chance to investigate” Tony blurted, because it was _something_ he could say. It would do. “We’ve been invited to a party.” He snatched the envelope from where he’d left it, beside the coffee pot, and handed it to Steve without looking at him. By the time he could bring himself to glance up again, Steve was already reading the card.

“… The _Perfect Fantasies_ party…?” Steve said, sceptically. Tony pinched his lips together.

“Well, there is that, yes.” He said, “And, you know, probably _lots_ of reasons not to go…”

“…But?”

“Well, I was giving some thought to what we could do, if we did go…”

And Steve blinked at him, and there was a stab of panic as Tony realised just how bad that had sounded.

“-_I mean_, obviously, we can’t just go up there and blow the whole operation up right now” Tony raced to clarify “Because we don’t even know if that _is_ where the operation is based, or what biological weapons they have aimed at the population, or if those drugs are explosive, or – well, we don’t know enough to do anything, yet. But, if we could get up there just once, then I think we _could_ know all that – and maybe even do something about it.”

And Steve just looked at him, _go on_.

“So, I had a look through all of the files we managed to steal when we were in the basement, and it’s all the day-to-day stuff. Employee files and schedules and some basic details of which drugs are added to what, and when... But, if you look through all the activity, you can see that there are files sent between this server and another server, a secure server – which would make sense. If they have a research facility here, or a production line, or both, then it would make sense that all the technical details and trade secrets and things are stored somewhere else. _And_, any of the shadier functionality, seeing as none of _those_ files make reference to chemical warfare against the local population.” He pointed vaguely in the direction of the file reader, which he’d thrown on the couch. “And, if the third floor is actually their ‘lab conditions’ then it would only make sense for the staff to be able to upload their data direct from there, or look up technical details while they were in the lab, right?”

“Right…”

“_Which_ means, I could connect a tracker from there…” Tony produced a tiny little device from his pocket with a flourish. He could see Steve squinting to look at it. “_This_, is a Facehugger.”

“A Facehugger?”

“Yeah, Peter named it, not my fault” Tony explained, dismissively. “It can be connected via almost any conventional port, and then infiltrate any system it’s connected to. Essentially connecting _their_ system, to _my_ system.” He pointed to the file reader again “And, skipping over the technical details, that will mean I am connected to _everything_ they do. I’ll be able to access their secure server. I’ll be able to watch their activity. I should even be able to take control of the system remotely, once we’re out.”

“So… we go to the third floor, we get to…_any_ of their computers?”

“Anything connected to the main server” Tony confirmed, proudly. “It’s like a virus, it just spreads from there.”

“So, we just need to find a computer, connect that thing, and then get out?”

“Ideally, yes” Tony nodded. “And then once we’re out of there, we can have a look at what we’re dealing with. We could… I don’t know, delete all their research. Probably shut down their drug ventilators, or whatever it is they’re using… it must all be connected to some central system. And, if nothing else, we’ll have more information to make a plan with.”

“And it’s information that we’re not going to get any other way…” Steve thought aloud.

“And if we bring anyone else in now, all they can do is try and take the place by force, or do exactly what we’re doing now and try to infiltrate by stealth. And if they try to take the place by force, they’ll be going in blind, and the Adam’s might do anything, especially to the people from Anni Vara. They’ll destroy all the evidence, for sure.” Tony reasoned. “And if they’re going to send someone to do it by stealth-”

“Then it might as well be us.” Steve finished for him.

And then there was a pause.

Their eyes met, briefly, as they silently debated who was going to be the one to say it out loud.

“And if we _can’t_ get out as soon as we’ve connected the…thing?” Steve sighed.

“Well… We could always say that, as we are both such busy, pressured people, that actually our perfect fantasy is to just sit very quietly in a room doing nothing for a few hours.” Tony suggested, self-consciously. “Peacefully sharing each other’s company – with clothes on.”

Steve snorted a surprised little laugh.

“And, you know…what my line is, anyway” Tony added awkwardly. Steve nodded, shyly. “And, obviously, we don’t know how things might change when we get up there… But, so far, they seem pretty keen not to push people past any limits, so I think the best plan is to just _say_ if you don’t want to…do…whatever they might suggest.” He fixed Steve with what he hoped was a serious look. “I don’t think we have to worry about that blowing our cover, and, anyway, if the tracker is attached, all we really have to care about is getting out of the room. So, just… Don’t be… _going along_ with anything, if you don’t have to…” And Steve nodded again. And then he went to say something-

And there was a very soft little knock at the door.

They both looked toward the noise and then back at one another. Steve scanned the room behind him. Tony looked towards the door, and then at Steve again. Steve nodded, subtly dropping into combat position as Tony walked over and opened it.

Immediately, another envelope was being pushed into his hands. Tony was pretty sure it was Zan who’d thrust it at him, but he’d had only the briefest of glimpses before she’d sprinted up along the corridor and out of sight.

_Wow, she’s fast. _

Instinctively, Tony stepped back into the suite as quickly as possible, slamming the door behind him before he looked down at the little package in his hands. That had all happened so quickly, it felt like he’d imagined it…

“Zan?” Steve asked, his eyes dropping to the parcel. This was a larger, uglier envelope than the one that had been delivered last night – grey, and cheap, and bulging in the middle with something other than paper.

“I think so – she just pushed this at me and she was gone…” Tony found himself leaning back slightly, holding his breath as he unpeeled the seal, not sure what he was bracing for-

And then, when he’d opened it, Steve just casually took it from him. Tony saw Steve set his jaw, before he pulled out a single sheet of paper. Bracing the same way Tony had.

_Just jumping on that grenade for me…_

“What does it say?” Tony muttered.

“Focus” Steve answered, still frowning at it. And then, by way of explanation, he handed Tony the paper.

At the top was an intricate pattern of tiny little squares, which Tony somehow recognised as a language. There was something about the flow of it, the fluid way the ink trailed from left to right even though the symbols themselves were so rigid… this was a train of thought, it was the alien version of notes in the margin. And then, just beneath that, in very square, almost childish handwriting, was written a single word: FOCUS.

At first, it meant nothing. And then, just as Tony was growing irritated by this cryptic clue, he heard Steve huff a little smile.

“Other side of the paper” He explained, gesturing to whatever he could see on the back it. Tony flipped the page.

The same strange square writing, like the author had been using graph paper as guidelines… Like an alien trying to make sense of all those erratic sweeps and loops and curves, he reasoned. Trying to make earth’s languages look more like their own.

TAKE MAX 2 [TWO] PER DAY

EFFECTS LAST 0.5 HOUR [HALF HOUR]

LEAVE AT LEAST 1 [ONE] HOUR BETWEEN DOSES

EFFECTS = FOCUS, COGNITIVE FUNCTION, MAY COUNTER ACT FACILITY DRUGS [MAY NOT]

PROVEN EARTH SAFE

THANKS YOU

As Tony was reading it aloud, Steve was shaking four little paper sachets out of the envelope. Even from here, Tony could make out the word FOCUS written on each of them.

“It’s a pill” Steve told him, carefully feeling one of the sachets between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, four in total.”

“Well… there’s a thing” Tony mused, re-reading the letter again. “So… do we take this?”

“I don’t know… I’m kind of hoping to limit the amount of drugs I take” Steve sighed.

“…But we know we’ll _have_ to take their drugs…” Tony added, not sure himself which route to take.

“We could just take them with us.” Steve suggested. “Wait and see if we think we need… or if we think that’d be better than whatever we find…”

“Yeah, good plan” Tony nodded.

Another pause.

“Okay, so, do you want to spend a fun packed day going through the employee files we do have, and trying to plan our escape routes?” Tony suggested with comedic enthusiasm.

“Yeah, sounds exhilarating.” Steve replied sarcastically. And then he glanced down at his shirt. “Although I should probably shower and change first… I’ve been wearing this a really long time…”

“Okay, well, I’ll make up some fresh drug coffee for when you’re out” Tony offered, and Steve laughed softly.

“You always did put the best spin of everything.” He commented meaninglessly, on his way over to the bathroom.

And then Tony was just standing there in the living room, listening to the dull thrum of the water on the other side of that door… and this odd sort of… feeling of _enlightenment_ came over him, he didn’t know what else to call it.

There were suddenly all these unconnected ideas in his head. Thoughts he just knew were important, that would all thread together into the same epiphany, if he gave it a moment…

_…I can’t be the one to make him happy…_

Oh, actually, he wasn’t sure he wanted this epiphany.

No… the more that dawned on him, the less he liked it.

…This was going to be a sad realisation, when it hit him.

…This was going to be the end of something…

Tony shook his head, and looked back down at the letter he was still holding.

FOCUS.

Okay, he nodded.

*

Steve had the oddest feeling that there really had been some sort of cut scene.

He knew he and Tony _had_ spent a whole day planning for this mission. He did remember getting ready to come out tonight and walking down that corridor and handing their invitation to the woman at the bottom of the stairs… And yet, somehow, it still felt like he was _suddenly_ here. Like it was just a second ago that he and Tony were discussing this far off, hypothetical party they might eventually go to…

And now they were sitting in a little reception room, waiting to _actually go in_.

Steve subconsciously rubbed his palms on the fabric of the couch – again. He could swear his hands weren’t this sweaty when they left the room… and he _had_ been nervous then. This whole thing made him incredibly…uncomfortable. And he didn’t really want to think about why.

“Are you okay?” Tony whispered softly from just beside him. It was actually just the two of them, for the time being. They’d been asked to wait in a little side room, with a plush cream carpet, and two white linen love seats, facing each other across a low glass coffee table. Steve felt like they were waiting to talk to someone about their prostate issues, or something. Like there should be a stack of glossy magazines smiling up at him from the floor.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’d been on worse dates?” Steve managed to joke – whispering too, for some reason.

“Okay, if we live through this thing, you’re really going to have to tell me that story” Tony replied, glancing up at him and raising an eyebrow-

Oh… Steve sort of wished he wouldn’t do that.

He really couldn’t tell if that… _attraction_, to Tony was getting stronger, or if he was just thinking about it all too much.

…Would he normally find it _this_ hard not to stare at Tony’s lips?

…Had he been _this_ distracted by the line of his collar, and the shape of his neck, when they left the room?

…Was this just going to keep getting _worse_-

And then the door opened – and they both jumped.

A…_strangely familiar_ blonde woman walked in…

“Hello again” She beamed – and then Steve recognised the voice. The woman who’d shown them around on the first night.

“Oh, Hi” Tony smiled, clearly having the same difficulty placing her.

“Janine” She provided, politely… and, nope, that was ringing literally no bells. Steve obviously hadn’t registered it _at all_ when she introduced herself the first time.

“Hi, Janine” Tony nodded, and Steve just smiled, shyly.

“So, how’re you feeling?” She asked, sinking into the couch opposite them. They shared an awkward look before Tony went to answer,

“Er, well-”

“Nervous.” Steve just _blurted_ out. And then mentally kicked himself. _Get a grip_.

“Everyone is” Janine assured them. “But please, don’t worry. I’ll start by saying that these experiences are quite carefully controlled – and that’s so that you can get the most out of this, and have an authentic experience of New Eden, but, most importantly, so that everything is safe. And we have made sure that – so long as you follow the basic rules, and stay within the general parameters, there is literally nothing that can go wrong.”

“Basic rules?” Tony queried.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go through everything very carefully, and I’ll give you a chance to ask any questions you might have” Janine assured them “And, just to make sure you know – you can _stop_ this experience at any time. We can’t allow you to amend anything, but you can always say that you want to leave, and that will always be fine.”

Steve felt Tony turn to look at him.

_Yeah, that’s not what bothers me_

_…what if I don’t want to leave?_

But Steve nodded anyway.

“Okay, so, firstly, I’ll explain what these parties actually are.” Janine smiled “They’re actually a controlled environment in which couples can try authentic New Eden substances, safely and to best effect. Each party is focussed on one particular drug – the drug you will be taking is called _Fantasia_, and it’s one of New Eden’s famous _partnered drugs_. Which is to say, it has been specially blended by the people here, for thousands of years, to be taken by couples – and it actually comes as two separate substances, designed to be taken together.”

Steve rubbed his palms across the fabric of the couch again.

“The drugs you will each be taking are very similar, and share many of the same effects. They both come under the same name. And the primary effects of taking Fantasia, for both of you, will be lowered inhibitions, increased physical sensitivity, and a heightening of basic physical responses…”

Steve felt his mouth just dry up. His heart started pounding in his ears, so hard it was difficult to hear her over the top of it.

“The subtle differences are that, whichever of you is enacting your fantasy, you will take a version of the drug that affords you slightly more control. Whoever is providing their partners fantasy will take a drug that more reduces feelings of shame-”

A sudden alarm sounded in Steve’s head.

“Woah, sorry, can I just-” He glanced from her to Tony, and then immediately back at her again. “So, it’s one of us… one of us is going to be the…” But Janine just smiled and held a palm up,

“Right, so I should probably better explain the specific experience – yes, this is an opportunity for _one_ of you to enact a fantasy” She nodded. “The way it works is that, once you’ve had time to discuss it, you decide _whose_ fantasy you’re going to enact. That person agrees to take control of the situation, the other person agrees to comply with it.”

Steve literally felt dizzy. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“And, to clarify, it needn’t necessarily be a submissive/dominance thing” Janine went on. “For a lot of people it’s more of a giving/receiving thing, or simply a chance to indulge a niche interest, or try something new…”

But her voice was just fading into the background.

He couldn’t help picturing Tony…

Tied down,

Chained down,

Just kneeling, _willing – _

Agreeing to comply

Being able to do _anything-_

Tony _wanting_ it,

Melting under him the way he had that night in the lounge,

No inhibitions, no shame…

_Heightened basic physical responses-_

“So, do you have any ideas about whose fantasy you’d like to-”

“His” Steve asserted, firmly.

He felt Tony flinch back to stare at him. He saw Janine’s eyes widen just slightly at the severity of both of their responses.

“Er, well, we haven’t talked about it, or anything” Tony answered Janine, his eyes still fixed on Steve.

“Well, I’ll give you as long as you need to discuss it now” She went on “And to discuss what sort of fantasies you might have, and, if you still want to do this, you can come and get me whenever you’re ready. Then I’ll give you the Ambience, and you can go up to the Third Floor.”

It was only when he heard her mention Ambience that Steve realised he’d missed a whole chunk of her induction speech, while he was trying not to think of Tony tied to a bed…

“Yeah, thanks, that’s great.” Tony told her – _still_ staring at the side of Steve’s head. Steve kept his eyes firmly forward until he heard Janine leave the room.

Then he _forced_ himself to look at Tony.

“It’s my fantasy, is it?” Tony asked, incredulously.

“Tony, I can’t – that’s my line” Steve snapped, looking away again. “And, if it’s your line too, then fine, we can just go, and think of something else. But I just can’t… take that responsibility, I don’t… I don’t know, I can do it the other way around, and I still want to do this, I still know that it’s important, but… I mean, I _could_ hurt you, or… You’re not going be able to force me to… anything… I just-”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s okay” Tony assured him, his voice softer now. “It’s good, you _should_ say…”

“…Do you think you can do this?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling very small.

“Errr…yes…” Tony decided, slowly. Thoughtfully. “I think… we go in, we get to a computer as quickly as humanly possible, we _focus,_ and _then_ we tell them we’ve changed our mind and we just want to leave. Like, _as quickly as humanly possible._”

Steve nodded, very enthusiastically.

“Because there _is_ no other way to be sure thousands of people wont die… and that these people pay for this…” Tony carried on like he was talking to himself. Like he was trying to _convince_ himself… “And if they ask in advance we’re just going with the hours of fully-clothed cuddling fantasy thing. It’s fine. Let’s do this.”

And then Tony stood up, sharply.

“What’s Ambience, by the way?” Steve asked quickly, before Tony could reach the door. Tony paused mid-stride to look at him. “I, uh, missed that bit.”

“They give us a pill before we even go up there – I assume it’s the security thing Zan told us about, so that we don’t end up sobbing on the floor. Janine says it's to help us relax first.”

“So, this isn’t _the_ drug?”

“No, we don’t take that until we get up there.” Tony explained, patiently.

“Right, okay.” Steve answered on autopilot… and then Tony was moving again, and the door was opening, and Janine was back.

Oh, there were so many words in Steve’s head right now…

And then Janine was holding out a little paper cup, with a bright blue pill in the bottom of it.

And, maybe, if he hadn’t been so concerned with the pill he was going to be given later, he’d have paid more attention to the one he was taking now. But he barely noticed himself swallow it, in a single gulp, without water.

He didn’t think about _that_ pill at all…

Well, not until they got upstairs, anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve began to feel the difference as they reached the top of the stairs.

There had been a whole range of… _reactions_, which Steve had felt to varying degrees, since they arrived at The Facility – some of which he was only just beginning to recognise. An irritability that simmered or flared, a light-headedness that waxed and waned, a sudden passion that would spike seemingly from nowhere. Those strange moments of mental calm, or mental absence, or whatever it was that lead him to just blurt out whatever he was thinking. That night he had just felt typically, familiarly _drunk_.

But… Oh, this was just something altogether _different_…

Steve felt himself being overwhelmed in a far more comprehensive way. This wasn’t the gentle bending of his moods that he’d been inhaling for days. This wasn’t a case of individual symptoms welling up. It was nothing like the slip into intoxication that he remembered from his nights drinking in Brooklyn. This felt more like a fog closing in around him. Something that was soaking into him, changing _everything_… things began to look different and sound different and his thoughts began to _feel_ different…

_Buuuuuttttt….._ He _did_ feel a lot more relaxed

_That’s what they said would happen, isn’t it? _

_ (…Wouldn’t it? Isn’t it? …Isn’t it.)_

_ Wait, hang on, is this what I thought would…going to…_

_Going to happen now?_

_Oh dear, _

_and we’re not even on the third floor yet-_

Except that, when Steve looked up, they actually were. He just hadn’t noticed them walking in.

It was… very… dark. And he wanted to say very eighties, for some reason, but hey, how would he know…

And then, for a few minutes, it just overwhelmed him completely. It was like he’d fallen outside of his body, outside of the understanding of time and space… there was just this gap, in which his legs apparently kept moving and his head was entirely still and it felt like he existed somewhere _else…_

Somewhere in amongst all this he had the vague impression they’d walked along several corridors… and through a few rooms he didn’t remember…

…And then, as they were still walking, he felt the world come slightly back towards focus. At least compared to the all-encompassing wave that had hit him when they first walked in

…_Took the pill?_

_ …Walked into the room?_

_ …Which was it?_

Well… It didn’t really matter now, seeing as the worst of… whatever it was, seemed to be passing. He still felt a little bit… _floaty._ Calmer than he probably should. _Relaxed_. But not so much he couldn’t see the room he was in-

Well, it wasn’t so much a room as the point where several corridors intersected. Six plush couches arranged in a hexagon, each facing a long, dark hallway. The couches were black. The walls and floors and ceiling were all painted black… and now that his eyes were beginning to focus again, he realised that the world wasn’t shimmering – it was just that everything was embedded with _very_ tiny white lights…

“Okay, so, as I said, it’ll take a few moments for the effects of the atmosphere to settle in” Janine explained-

_Did she say that before? I have literally no idea what she’s talking about…_

“So, we’ll give you both a little bit of time to let that even out, before we give you the Fantasia. Steve, if you’d like to wait here.” She gestured to the couch. “One of my colleagues will be with you shortly. And Tony, if you’d like to come with me-”

“We can’t wait together?” Steve asked, and Janine flashed an apologetic smile.

“One of the basic rules, I’m afraid. Can’t be altered.” Her tone suggested that she’d explained this once already.

Well, she might’ve.

So, Steve just… nodded…

And then Tony was right _there_. His chest _almost _pushed flush against Steve, the gentle press of his lips to the side of Steve’s face… the bite of something metallic against Steve’s palm, surrounded by the softness of Tony’s hand, closing around his… the ghost of Tony’s breath against Steve’s ear as he whispered

“See you in there.”

Oh, the sound of his voice

Steve could just drown in the closeness of him-

And then he was gone.

They were both gone…

Steve glanced down, to the tiny, alien object sitting numb in the palm of his hand. And he looked at it.

And then he sank into the couch behind him, and he tried to think of its name. A strange, silly sounding name… Peter had named it…

Slowly, oh so slowly, Steve became sober enough to realise how out of it he was. He recognised that, whatever it was he should be doing, trying to remember this thing’s name wasn’t it.

There _was_ something important he was meant to be doing

A reason Tony had given this to him.

He realised; he wasn’t going to come to his senses quickly enough to be useful. He became aware of a time constraint…

_Someone is going to be with me shortly._

_ This isn’t going to ‘even out’ quickly enough._

_ I have to focus…_

Oh, wait.

FOCUS.

Immediately, his hand was wrapped around one of the little sachets in his pocket. He remembered there was a reason he’d been reluctant to take this… but he had no hope of remembering what it was. And he’d used all of his cognitive capacity having this idea in the first place. He wasn’t able to analyse it.

He just knew he needed to _think_ right now.

So, he popped the little pill free of its paper packaging, his hand still concealed in his pocket, and then swallowed it as discretely as he could. And then he closed his eyes and tried to count to ten.

And, wow, the first few attempts were really very arduous.

But then…two, three, four… okay, this was getting easier

…five, six, seven…

His mind began to clear – _rapidly,_ now. Like waking up from a trance.

Steve opened his eyes.

Wow.

Okay, first point – this FOCUS stuff was _good._ From being as confused and fuzzy headed as he’d ever been in his life, Steve now felt as though he could literally see everything in more detail. He could hear more sharply. And, when he looked at the little device in his hand, the name immediately occurred to him – as did the entire plan it was attached to.

And, instantly, his mind picked out the central theme from all the noise. Like some overarching instinct had decided that Steve’s fears about this party and his feelings for Tony and his crisis of self were all peripheral concerns. Something just blocked it all out, and arranged what was left into a plan.

_I have to find a computer_

_I have to attach this device_

_I have an opportunity, for as long as I’m alone_

_I have to move, before anyone comes to find me._

And, just like that, he was moving – somehow, he’d even managed to think to look for power cables, knowing that they’d be more likely to lead down a corridor that was useful to him.

The hallway he chose was long, and wide. He vaguely remembered that some of the corridors ran past large lounges and soft rooms, so he was faintly encouraged to find a row of what looked like office doors. More likely to find a computer in an office than a sex lounge, he reasoned.

He crept from one door to the next, listening carefully. There was the distinct murmur of quiet activity behind the first four doors; the dull rhythm of speaking, the drag and _thunk_ of chairs being moved, the gentle rain-like patter of fingers on keyboards. Steve repeatedly scanned the corridor, one end to the other, trying to think of what he would say if he were caught here like this… But then, at the fifth door, he got lucky. The sound of silence. And then, when he nudged the door open-

Empty office.

Unattended computer.

_Done it._

Steve made it over to the desk in two large strides, the Facehugger already poised between his thumb and forefinger. He glanced at it, and thought back to what Tony had said about how it worked…

Hm. Wasn’t coming _quite_ as fluidly as it had been…

But he remembered well enough – it was nano tech. Just hold it up to any port and it will adapt to fit.

And it turned out, that was as much as he needed to remember. Steve followed that basic instruction, and watched the tiny little device come alive and melt into shape, pouring itself into one of the USB ports until it filled it almost invisibly.

…And he thought of Tony, in the nano-tech armour. The way it melted around his body, even as Tony moved-

Steve shook the image away, and looked back at the computer, firmly asking himself if there was anything else he needed to do before he left. And his eyes fell on a little yellow post-it, cello-taped to the edge of the computer monitor. The word PASSWORD, and the word LOG IN, and the word SAVE, all written in a familiar, boxy handwriting… and next to each of them, a little pattern of interlocking squares.

…That was significant.

…He knew it was.

But he couldn’t quite work out what that post-it made his blood run cold… He found himself trying to remember how long this FOCUS stuff was meant to last – and, when he couldn’t, he concluded that it was probably wearing off. And there was still just about enough of it left for him to consider

_Just attach it. Tony said that’s all I had to do_

_Get out before anyone sees you_

_If you can get out of here with the tracker attached, you’ve done it_

He took once last glance at the computer – at that post-it in particular… and then he left, gently closing the door behind him.

He sprinted down the corridor as quickly as he’d ever moved, and all but threw himself down on the couch-

It was _maybe_ three seconds, before a man in a white suit appeared from the opposite corridor, smiling directly at Steve.

_Jesus that was close_

“Hi Steve, how are you?” The man beamed, extending a hand. Steve took it, awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“I don’t know if you remember me, we met a few nights ago – I’m Dev.”

_Nope._

“Oh, yeah. Hi” Steve forced himself to smile – trying to hide the fact that he was still slightly out of breath.

“So, are you feeling a little more balanced now?”

“Since I came up here you mean? Yeah, a bit” Steve answered – talking too quickly.

“Do you understand what you’re here to do?”

“Er, yeah…” And then he realised Dev was looking at him to elaborate. So, he dug as deep as he could, and used the last dregs of the FOCUS, to think of the difference between the real answer and the right one. “I’m – _we’re_ here to…experience this part of, _New Eden_, and, uh, take Fantasia and…live out one of Tony’s fantasies.”

“And how to _you_ feel, about enacting one of _his_ fantasies?” Dev pushed.

“Well, it was always my fantasy to _be_ his fantasy, so…”

_That was a bit…honest_

_And came out far too easily…_

And Steve found he was surprisingly…relaxed, about having said it. Just… pleased that it seemed to be the answer Dev was looking for, really…

And then Dev nodded.

He handed Steve a little paper cup, and a bottle of water.

Steve looked at them both for a second. Somewhere, in the very back of his head, the memory echoed, _just say you’re not comfortable and then we can leave_

But he had this idea that he should wait until he was with Tony

That he couldn’t… _leave_ Tony, or something…

“Whenever you’re ready” Dev prompted.

So, Steve just… Did.

He just took that pill, because he was supposed to… And, as he swallowed it, he _did_ note that it had probably been a bad idea. But it was just a thought, without any real weight. There was no sinking feeling, no hot rush of fear up his spine. Just the oddly detached observation that he probably shouldn’t have done that…

“Okay, so your room is just along here” Dev gestured to one of the corridors. “Tony is already waiting for you.”

And Steve felt a hot rush along his spine _then._

…And it definitely wasn’t fear.

*

Tony fell down on a couch with a dull _thump_.

The soft jolt though his bones brought him to his senses a bit…. Enough to recognise that Janine had brought him to a little side room, maybe twelve feet squared – just big enough to fit two little couches, facing each other. He was on one, and Janine was just sitting, patiently waiting, on the other…

Somewhere in the haze he remembered to panic about the tracker, and the plan-

But then he remembered that he’d already handed that off to Steve… for reasons that made sense at the time…

…So now he wasn’t sure _what_ he was doing…

And he had the same instinct, that he was never supposed to be out of it like this… the same vague memory that something was important…

He remembered that he needed to _focus – _and he remembered the two little pills, hidden in his pocket…

But he couldn’t do anything about that, with Janine right there in front of him…

_…I think that’s why I gave the tracker to Steve, because he wasn’t being watched…_

And Tony was being watched.

He just about managed to register _that_… to remember not to… do _anything_, while he was being watched…

So, for a while, he just sat there, feeling the ground spin beneath him and the world continuing around him, and not really being aware of anything…

Until, slowly, he became aware that he _existed_…

That he was sitting here, in this room… quite calmly… waiting for something…

_Hm… is that a good thing, or a bad thing, I wonder…?_

“How’re you feeling?” Janine enquired brightly, maybe picking up on some change in Tony’s posture.

“Um… Weird…” Tony admitted, as he tried to find the word…

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“Yes.” Tony breathed out a little laugh… because that was definitely _one_ word for it…

“So, tell me – how do you really feel about Steve?” She went on, in the same casual, conversational tone… So Tony just… _answered_ her…

“I love him so much it hurts. All the time.” He sighed.

And then it occurred to him to wonder whether that was the right answer…

But… Janine seemed satisfied with it…

_Okay. Whatever._

“Good, that’s important,” She assured him, leaning forward “There’s a reason that we only allow couples to take this drug – the same reason that the Varians only ever brewed this for couples…”

A muted alarm sounded in Tony’s head then. Or, no, maybe alarm was too strong a word for it – he was still far too spaced out to be _alarmed_ by anything. It was more a casual observation in his own mind. _Oh, that’ll potentially fuck things up later. Should make a note of that…_

And, hey, maybe it _did_ register as odd, to hear her refer to ‘Varians’… But, seriously, that was _way_ far down Tony’s order of mental priorities at the moment – and he really only had the capacity to deal with one thing at a time anyway…

_This is only safe for couples_

_And we’re not a couple_

_And I should probably tell her-_

_ Oh, nope, wait, can’t tell her that…_

_…This is probably going to be bad._

_Just sayin’…_

Oh… And Janine had totally just said something else, and he’d completely missed it…

“…So, a lot of these rooms are rather…_generically_ designed.” She carried on, gesturing to a door to their left. “We try to provide, in advance, the amenities that are more frequently requested – but please don’t take this as any suggestion of what you _should_ be doing, and remember that you’re encouraged to request _any_ additional provisions.”

“Okay…” Tony answered on auto pilot…wondering _why_ all of that made him so uncomfortable…

“And, if you are looking for the _authentic_ New Eden experience, remember – the people here have always considered _shame_, as opposed to guilt, to be an entirely social construct. And, whether you agree with that philosophy or just want to experience it for a moment, it’s still encouraged that you leave all ideas of _shame_ out here. We trust that you love each other enough that you won’t do anything that is actually harmful – the actions that would rightly evoke a feeling of _guilt_ – and, for your peace of mind, we are on hand to make sure that nothing goes _wrong_. But to engage in something that shows no malice and causes no ill effect, if it pleases you, is not the same – however it is judged in the society you come from.”

She fixed him with what was probably supposed to be a meaningful look… But Tony still didn’t really know what she was talking about, so he just stared back at her.

“This is _your_ fantasy, and it’s something that your partner _wants _to do for you, and it’s important that you keep that in mind.” She assured him. And Tony just found himself nodding…

“Okay.”

…_It’s so weird that she means Steve._

And then she was handing him a little paper cup, and a bottle of water… He didn’t even know where she’d produced those _from – _but he took them.

And he looked at them.

And, like Steve, he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to…

…_I’m supposed to get out of here, as soon as the tracker is attached_

_…is the tracker attached...?_

“Whenever you’re ready”

And…

_What else can I do?_

So, Tony took the pill, and closed his eyes.

“Okay, just give that a minute.” Janine smiled at him-

But it didn’t take that long.

Almost immediately, Tony because very… _aware_, of his own body. Aware of the air moving against his hands and neck, the feeling of his clothes against his skin, the exact shape and weight of all of his limbs...

He could _feel_ his blood moving in his veins, the gentle, rhythmic push of it

He could feel his lungs expanding, stretching to their limits with every breath and then _letting go_… this constant cycle of build and release…

He felt more awake now.

He felt more of _everything_ now.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw everything entirely differently. He saw Janine more… _physically_, more basically… he was just more aware of her in the moment, more aware of the individual parts of her, as all his broad social understanding faded into the background.

He could see the blood moving under her skin, too. He could see her breathing.

He was suddenly aware of all the little details of her

The curve of her neck

The colour of her lips

The sweep and swell of her body

He took in all of these details in a very basic, primal way… And decided, just as primally – _not that._

There was no concept of what he _should_ want, or the reasons he wanted, or the complexities of where this came from and what it would mean, afterwards… In that moment, Tony knew exactly what he wanted, and he wanted it very simply – and this just wasn’t it.

No judgement, no anxiety, no interest in the wider issues.

Just…

_I want._

_…Not this._

“Are you ready?” She smiled, politely. And Tony almost asked her, _for what?_ It was only that it would’ve taken too much concentration to form the words, that it just seemed _easier_ to nod, and stand up when she did, and follow her though the door-

His eyes immediately fell on the bed.

There was other… paraphernalia, set up in little areas through-out the room… Tony might’ve noticed a bath somewhere off to the left, and some sort of… bench, thing, that he didn’t look at for long enough to work out…

He just looked at the bed.

The same primal instinct.

_That._

Not any of the other stuff – _that_.

It was a huge, white four poster bed… with a thick black chain cuffed to each post, and draped artfully towards the centre of the pristine cotton sheets.

…It was just _so_ easy to imagine Steve sprawled out on that bed

…_Chained_ to that bed

-_impossible not to imagine-_

…Naked and spread open and displayed for him like tha-

“And, of course, you’re under no obligation to stay in this room” Janine added.

“What?” Tony asked – with no intention of listening to her the second time, either.

“This entire floor is set up for this experience tonight – if you’d prefer to be with other people, to go to one of the lounges or one of the group rooms we walked by, you are of course more than welcome.”

“Oh, okay, thanks” Tony muttered, entirely mindlessly

“And I think I’ve just seen Dev go to find Steve, so, he should be with you any minute.”

_What?_

_Wait, Fuck, No-_

“Enjoy your evening.”

_No-_

But by the time he’d worked out how to turn around, she was gone.

It was just him.

Standing by this bed.

Waiting for Steve.

His body reacted before his head could work it out. A rush of excitement that made him feel weak and heady, a sudden burning need that was almost painful… a queasy sickness in the pit of his stomach…

_Something oh so very wrong with this…_

But, oh, the ideas that suddenly flooded his head

_Doesn’t seem like there’s anything_ _wrong with-_

_Steve doesn’t want any of this, not really_

_You’d be forcing him to-_

Tony physically shuddered – _making_ himself think of what that really meant -

_What you’re about to do_

Oh, God, why wasn’t this working?

Why did he still want to – _how could he_ still want to-

_Okay, Tony, you are about to do the worst thing you have ever done, _

_Something irreversible, something there will be no coming back from_

_You have to stop this_

_You have to focus-_

FOCUS.

Tony reached for the pill, the way a drowning man reaches blindly for _anything_ to hold on to. He had no idea what he was expecting it to do. He had no clue what was behind his sudden inspiration that it might help – but something had to help. Because he was sliding into something truly awful with terrifying speed, and he just didn’t have time to think of anything else.

He swallowed the pill, and squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to remember what the happy prime numbers were-

And that came to him _remarkably_ quickly.

Okay, that was vaguely reassuring.

Okay, _think._

And he opened his eyes, and looked back at the bed…

…Oh.

Because, of course, unlike Steve, Tony hadn’t taken the FOCUS whilst desperately trying to think about something – he’d taken it because he was trying _not_ to.

Turned out, didn’t quite work that way.

Apparently, this drug just took whatever idea was in your mind – whether it was one you were trying to hold on to, or one that had a hold of you – and _focused_ on it.

Tony was still thinking about Steve.

In fact, he was now thinking about Steve _more_ than he was before.

…More clearly and more completely than he _ever_ had.

The background noise had fallen away now. There was no room left to wonder if he was a terrible person, or the relative wrongs at play… or even what was about to happen…

The more of the FOCUS that seeped into Tony’s system, the more he realised that this was all just background noise too… The bed, The Facility… The physical attraction in the moment

…It was so much…_more_, than that…

…It was so much _simpler _that that.

And suddenly, there it all was – all the complicated history between he and Steve, laid out in his mind. Every fight, every meaningful look, every shared moment and every betrayal… and all the different issues that ran through it all. All the irrelevant bits cut out, all the important points in order, just like that.

He could so easily see the pattern in it all now.

He looked at the bed, and he _understood_ now.

What his fantasy actually was.

What his reality was.

What the problem had always been.

…He knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do, right now.

When the door opened behind him, he didn’t even jump. He realised that somewhere between being left in this room and now, he’d fallen into a genuine _calm_.

It was different to relaxed.

More focused.

And he had this… _understanding, _that it wasn’t really about any of the drugs anymore. That the FOCUS was probably working its way out of his system now, and the Fantasia was probably meant to have the opposite effect – that, even if he _was_ still under the influence of either of those things, it could have nothing to do with a revelation this huge.

This was the _authentic_ calm of having just worked out a problem – _the_ problem – that he’d been struggling with for over half a decade.

And he turned to look at Steve… Flushed, and a little breathless, scanning the room with wide, endearingly innocent eyes – as _beautiful_ in that moment as he’d ever been

_Steve…_

“I, uh, did the thing” Steve stammered, looking down.

Tony could see the blood rushing up his neck, the way his cheeks flushed, the way his whole body tensed, tight and poised and to the point of breaking…

_Hm_…

“So, uh, what-do-we, what do we do… now…” Steve continued talking to the floor.

And Tony just…_smiled._

And he waited, for as long as it took for Steve to break, and look up at him again.

“…Come here.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, amazingly, there is *still* no smut yet - I know, I'm an unbearable tease (if it helps... there is A LOT of smut in the NEXT update... and thereafter...) HOWEVER, there are some less-than-subtle parallels drawn, so just to be on the safe side, I'm including some more details in the end notes. If you have any triggers, squicks or concerns regarding non-con, or sub/dom, you might want to check that before you read. An excess of caution probably, but better that than too little care.  
ALSO - again, I appreciate that this update is only telling one side of the story. I would just like to reassure people that the other side of this conversation is going to happen, from both party's point of view. Also, as much as I think Steve probably would have a strong reaction to all of this - please remember that he is on drugs here, is all I'm saying... (not that I'm nervous about this update, or anything...)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It was the tone of his voice that did it.

Steve really _had_ been poised to get out of this situation. Even over the top of his panic, and his desire, and the _rapidly_ escalating effect of the drugs, he really had been yelling at himself to get Tony and go. He had a very simple two-point plan, which he’d been repeating to himself over and over for the last two minutes, just hoping he could keep his head clear enough for long enough to say it. He’d forgotten the wider context, he couldn’t let himself be distracted by more details than that, he just had to 1) Make Sure Tony Said It Was Okay To Leave, and 2) Leave.

And then Tony spoke.

_“come here…”_

And it was the _way_ he said it. Dark, and warm… _almost_ dangerous, but still compelling. A danger Steve wanted to walk toward, that it felt _right_ to walk toward… Steve’s whole body weakened as soon as Tony said those words, his heart suddenly racing too hard for him to answer.

And he looked for a reason not to comply, and there just wasn’t anything there.

The mission, the plan, the alien planet… his own name. All gone.

If it seemed like Steve was at all hesitant, it was only because his legs were trembling. There wasn’t any resistance left in him…not for Tony. He realised, with an unexpected swell of calm, that he really _would_ do anything that Tony told him to… that it would feel… _natural_. Right, somehow.

He remembered _Tony’s_ name.

He suddenly _felt_ everything about Tony, he knew every different, wonderful quality about him, he could _see_ that beauty and brilliance and bravery that he could never put into words…

He wasn’t sure how he made it across the room, but he did – because Tony had told him to. And, _God_, Steve would have kissed him then. He’d never been more desperate to do anything, more _sure_ of anything… But Tony hadn’t told him to.

_Tony has to say I can_.

And then Tony placed a firm hand to the centre of Steve’s chest. Steve felt all the air just leave his body, his skin literally burning under Tony’s palm, instinctively leaning into it – but knowing he couldn’t move any more than that. And then he felt Tony push against him, and relented immediately, not so much _letting_ Tony walk him back toward the bed as being genuinely unable to fight him. Steve stumbled back those three broad steps, his eyes still locked on Tony, his attention focused _entirely_ on doing whatever Tony said right now. He’d forgotten there were such things as ‘surroundings’ and ‘rooms’ and ‘furniture’; he was genuinely surprised to feel the bed hit the back of his legs.

He didn’t even know if he’d fallen into it or if Tony had pushed him. He just found himself sprawled on his back, on crisp, white sheets-

There was a sudden spike of something – fear, excitement, shock… maybe some whole new emotion that Steve had never felt before in his life. Somehow, he was still unwilling or unable to drag his mind out of this very second, he _still_ wasn’t thinking about what might be about to happen-

But he felt it.

Some primal part of him recognised that he was on a bed, that Tony was climbing onto it with him, that this warranted a flush of heat over his skin and an immediate hardening of every muscle.

_Oh my God is he actually going to-_

_Is this okay-_

And then Tony climbed on _top_ of him, straddling him. Pinning him to the bed.

Steve felt his heart stop.

There was a sort of mass confusion in him, as every instinct panicked at once. His body didn’t know whether to soften or tense, whether to melt into this or push up against it. He just _wanted_, and he didn’t-

And then Tony’s hands were on his arms, so quickly. Steve… didn’t know what had happened, or how, there was just this…movement, and then he was looking at his own wrist – the cuff locked tight around it.

It took a second to work out what he was looking at – long enough that he completely missed Tony cuffing his other wrist, too. And when he realised he was _chained to the bed-_

He _liked_ that idea

Oh, God, he didn’t know _why_ he liked that idea

What he liked about it

It didn’t matter. He liked it.

And then he felt Tony shift, and move so that he was kneeling beside him on the bed now. Steve could feel Tony looking down at him, before he’d managed to tear his eyes away from the chain.

And then he looked at Tony.

…Oh, suddenly everything felt so very different.

_This is something different_

Tony seemed so beautiful in that moment, so _powerful_, so… serious. And Steve suddenly felt it – how _serious_ this moment was. Beyond any of the trivial things he’d ever worried about, beyond any of the frivolous things he _had_ been thinking Tony might do.

This moment was important.

This moment was _real._

More real than anything Steve had ever experienced in his life. Free from the self-deception and prejudices and assumptions that were just the background noise of every moment. Free from the need for words, more than the social construct of language. Steve just _knew_, he just felt it.

Whatever was about to happen, it was going to change everything. It was-

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit you, or fuck you – even though I’ve had plenty of fantasies about both, over the years” Tony told him, his voice still rich and full and… him.

And still, Steve held his breath.

He’d sort of worked out both of those things, in the last few seconds – whatever this was, it was far bigger… of a different thing _entirely_, to anything as basic as violence or sex. Important enough that, for the time being at least, even the revelation that Tony had _wanted_ to fuck him faded into the background.

It was what he was _going_ to say. That was what Steve was waiting for. It felt like that was what the whole world was waiting for.

“You know, sitting here, I’ve figured something out… about fantasies… and about reality.” Tony went on, in such a calm…_resigned_ way… something about it turned in Steve’s stomach. He had a horrible feeling that this was the moment people think back to, _after_ the tragedy has happened, when they tell their friends, _you’re not going to believe me, but I just knew something awful had happened. _

Something awful _was_ happening. Steve could hear it in his voice.

“You know, there are some fantasies that are _only_ fun in your head.” Tony carried on explaining. “People who daydream about walking into their office and shooting the place up – most of them wouldn’t even want to act it out, they wouldn’t even like the play pretend, in the moment. It’s _only_ an idea. And, as it turns out – I _never_ want to hit you. As much as I might _think_ I want to kick you in your perfect teeth…. I don’t. And it wasn’t fun, even when I was doing it, and it’s been horrible to think about ever since. And, just so you know, I’m sorry for it. I’ll… tell you that properly, when we get home…”

“Tony-” It just broke out of Steve’s chest, like he’d have yelled if he’d burned himself. A physical reaction – fuck knows what he thought he was going to follow it up with. But by now his ribs ached with the force of just, _feeling_ this much, and he couldn’t-

“Shh” Tony soothed – and put a finger to Steve’s lips. It was the contact that shocked Steve into silence. It was just so intense- “_My_ fantasy, remember? In _fact…_” And Steve saw Tony’s eyes go to the little silk-lined caddy that stood next to the bed, the one Steve had caught the barest glimpse of as he was falling. And then Steve heard the familiar, ripping sound of duct tape being pulled from a roll.

And then the hot press of Tony’s hand over his mouth. The tingling of the tape stuck fast against his skin.

“There, now you can’t say anything.” Tony smiled, sweetly. And…

Oh, Steve liked that too.

And that was especially inappropriate now, because something far more important than that was happening… but, God, if _anything_ was going to tempt him away from that, it was the idea that he _couldn’t speak right now_.

He couldn’t say anything wrong

No one could ask him why he hadn’t said the obvious thing.

He couldn’t-

“So, there are the fantasies that are _only_ fun in your head. The things you don’t _really_ want to do.” Tony continued, “And then, obviously, there are the things that are _only_ fun in the protected, fake little bubble of a fantasy. Just as a game. The things I guess everyone is _here_ to do… You have to hope that no one here would _really_ like it, if they went home and found they _actually_ had a sex slave. That, if it was suddenly put in the real world, there would be all the unpleasantness and the wider issues – the stuff you put aside, when you’re indulging in a fantasy, just for a moment, just because the _idea_ is fun. And those things _can_ be fun, even though they don’t mean anything – maybe those things are only fun _because_ they don’t mean anything. Because if they meant something it would be all awkward and complicated and not fun anymore…”

An almost wistful look came over Tony’s face then. Just for a second, and then he just blinked, and carried on.

“And then there are the fantasies that are _actually_ your hopes, your dreams. The things you really _would_ want, and would want all of, if it weren’t impossible. The job you’d give anything to take. The family you’d give anything to have… the man who’ll never love you back. So, _sometimes_… you have to accept that those things are just fantasies too…”

And he placed his and to the side of Steve’s face so _tenderly_, it was heart breaking. It left Steve feeling weak at the very core of him, immediately tearful…

“I have loved you since, oh, about six weeks after I met you, I think?” And Tony said it so casually, that for a second Steve thought he couldn’t _possibly_ be saying- “And I’ve known it, since then. Even through all of _this_, even when I was so angry at you and so hurt and so confused, I always knew I loved you. That I was still _in_ love with you, after all of that… And I never understood it. I knew it, but I didn’t get it. I could never work out why – when I didn’t like the way you made me feel, when I never thought you treated me fairly, when _I _was always the one pointing out that you weren’t perfect… I knew you weren’t, and I loved you anyway, and I _never_ understood it… until now.”

And Steve just felt his stomach drop from under him.

He felt like his lungs were being flooded with icy water, like he was drowning from the inside out.

He was suddenly at the mercy of a panic and a self loathing and a _grief_ so powerful that he couldn’t breathe.

In that instant, Steve understood what was really happening here. Something so terrible that it pushed everything else out of his head – _even_ hearing Tony say he loved him.

Because that _wasn’t_ what he was saying – that wasn’t the point of what he was saying, anyway.

He was saying _goodbye_.

And the horror of that revelation – it was like realising he was about to die. That he’d _been_ dying for however long and just hadn’t realised, that there was nothing he could do about it now-

_Oh, God, Tony, Please no-_

“But I’ve just worked out that I do love you, everything about you – except the way you treat _me_. That, if I could just take myself out of it, and watch you with _anyone_ else, watch every choice you ever made that didn’t involve me… it’d be so _easy_ to love you. Stubbornness and self-righteousness and facetious neatness and all. It was all so understandable, so obviously from a good place – so coherent. Even those… _flaws_, such as they are, they fit with the special, amazing bits of you, they were just the other side of that… I’d have loved all that about you too.”

And every single word was like a knife in Steve’s heart.

God, it was even worse than that

This wasn’t just Tony leaving him – this was Tony taking everything that Steve had _ever_ wanted, that he never thought he could have-

_You could have had it. You ruined this. You said goodbye._

He’d wondered, more than once, how it would’ve felt if he’d managed to kill the Winter Solider before he’d realised who he was. He’d tried to imagine the awfulness of that moment, if he’d pulled back the mask and realised not only that Bucky was dead, but that _he’d_ done it, that he could’ve stopped it-

This was _worse_.

It was actually worse.

_Oh, God, Tony, Please, I didn’t know-_

“And then there was how you made _me_ feel.” Tony sighed. Not even bitter, anymore. Just… _sad_. “From the inside, it was so confusing – I saw this man I knew so well, and loved so much and who would never be so callous, who hated to lie, who didn’t judge and welcomed everyone and had the same pompous, _compassionate_, says-nothing speech for all of them – _except_. Sometimes you could be so different. There was this whole other side to you I couldn’t work out… And I’ve just realised, it’s not a whole other side to you at all.” And he paused, and looked right at Steve, those beautiful dark eyes so wide and full of feeling “It’s just _me_.”

Steve sat up as much as he could before the cuff’s dug into his wrists, he shouted at him, _no, please, Tony – _in the end, he just shouted into the tape. Desperate to do something, anything to stop this.

This wasn’t fun, or frivolous, this wasn’t just a thing that would have happened. This _wasn’t_ a game-

Tony was leaving him

Tony was leaving him _because _he thought Steve didn’t love him

And Steve couldn’t _speak_, he couldn’t-

_This is all your fault_

_This is exactly what you deserve_

_You could have fixed any of this, at any time, and now it’s all too late_

“If I could take myself out of it, if I’d never met you and was watching a film of you, from a distance… You would just be this kind, patient, brave, annoying stubborn man – who just has a problem with this Tony Stark guy. Hey, doesn’t everyone? Someone who likes all but the most unlikeable, is patient with all but the most infuriating… someone who just doesn’t trust Tony not to fuck it up – which is how everyone feels, by the way.” And Tony looked away, his shoulders suddenly heavy, his voice more tired, more resigned when he carried on “It’s not a flaw of _yours_, not to like me. It’s not a flaw of yours, not to trust me. And, yeah, it kills me you never will… but I guess that’s my problem to deal with, isn’t it?”

Another stabbing pain in Steve’s chest. Even deeper, even… worse.

_Even worse_.

He loved Tony. He’d never loved Tony as much or as simply as he did right now. Just hearing Tony talk that way about himself, knowing he felt that badly, that he’d been so hurt-

_You want to kill whoever did it, don’t you?_

_You did that. You hurt him like that._

_And now you can’t stop him hurting, because you can’t speak_

_That’s what you wanted, right? _

_All those times you could’ve spoken, and you didn’t want to._

“And my _dream_ was always just for you to think of me like anyone else. Well, no, let’s be honest here.” Tony stopped himself with a self-depreciating little laugh “My _dream_ would be for you to let me love you, for you to love me back… I wanted to help you. You might not believe it, given how wrong I got it, at times… but all I wanted was to make you happy. And, yeah, there were times when you looked at me a certain way, and God, I wanted to touch you…” His eyes drifted over Steve’s body, briefly – and then Tony shook the thought away… like he would a happy memory, made sad by the passage of time. “But I’d have settled for being the same as anyone else. To earn the same benefit of the doubt, the same trust – to be able to spend time with you and just be happy there, just be able to be with you. I _really_ wanted that. And that’s not going to happen. So, I guess I’ll just have to make my peace with it, and let it go, and think about what I _can_ have.”

“Because the _reality _is that I’m just not Bucky, to you. I’m not Nat, or Sam. I’m not Wanda or Clint. I’m not someone you want to confide in, you don’t wonder what I think or care how I’m feeling or care what I think about you. And I’m not someone you hate and I’m not someone you ever _wanted_ to hurt, and I’m sure you would take a bullet for me. I’m just… some guy.” Tony breathed those last two words like they were the saddest thing he could’ve resigned himself to being.

And, God, Steve could answer _that_.

Jesus, there were a thousand reasons that Tony wasn’t just some guy, Steve could’ve told him exactly what he was thinking, when Tony thought he was thinking that-

He never thought that Tony would’ve wanted to hear _that_, he-

_Jesus Tony, I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I thought I didn’t have any of the right things to say_

_I didn’t know, please just let me say-_

“And I can’t be the one to make you happy, and there’s probably not much I can do to help…” Tony just carried on, over the top of Steve’s increasingly desperate muffled yelling “But I could probably help more, if I just got it through my head that my feelings don’t count in this, and there isn’t a compromise, and we’re not building anything. There are just those things… that maybe I even see better now, I don’t know… things I wasn’t kind enough about before, because I was still thinking like I mattered. Like there was some point in trying to prove I was your equal or as important as anyone else you cared about, or as worthy of it. And if I hadn’t been so desperate – so hopelessly, _fruitlessly_ desperate – to get you to see me, maybe I’d have seen you. Maybe if I’d been less concerned with making you see my point of view, I’d have seen yours. Maybe I’d have seen that it wasn’t _aimed_ at me, if I’d just accepted that nothing you did really was – that it was only _about_ me in so far as I’m the one with the special ability to push _anyone_ away.”

He didn’t even say it pointedly. He just said it as another lamentable fact of this situation, something he’d apparently come to terms with. And Steve felt that first tear run down his cheek, more desperation than sadness. He couldn’t _believe _that Tony thought that, that he really _meant_ all this – but Steve knew he did. And he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t fix this-

“Maybe I could’ve just shut up, and stopped thinking about myself, and just said what you needed to hear. And you know what, I actually _am_ sorry for that, and when all this over I’ll tell you that properly, and I’ll be nicer about it. And then things will just be better than they were, and that’s as good as things are ever going to be, and that’s the reality.”

Steve just sobbed into his gag, frantic now – and then a little voice whispered in his head, so bitter and nasty he wasn’t sure if it was really _him_-

_Why, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?_

_For him to just be nice to you, and stop being mad at you, and making things so complicated…?_

Oh, he _hated_ himself. He hated himself for how he’d ruined his own life, he hated himself for what he’d done to Tony

_But I never knew-_

_I didn’t think-_

“But before that, there’s _tonight_.” Tony forced himself on more brightly, taking a breath and sitting himself up more, before he moved on to the next section of his plan. “Which is supposed to be about the fantasies that are just fun at the time, right? The things that don’t change anything when you leave the room, the things where you don’t even want to think about the background – the things you just want to _do_. And do you know what I’d _just like to do_? I’d just like to tell you, just once, why I’m so fucking mad at you.”

…Okay, somehow that had stilled the panic in Steve just a little.

It was all still there, just as sharp and just as awful… but not moving so quickly, somehow. His heart was still racing and there were still tears sliding down his face, and there was still that bitter, metallic taste of fear… but the frantic thoughts had quieted, just for a moment.

Just long enough for Steve to remember…

…He _did_ want that.

He really wanted that. Even now.

“Even though I know _why_, and I know _you didn’t mean it_, and I know _you’re still Steve Rogers_” Tony had let a little bit of mockery slip into his tone there, a sarcastic exaggeration… “Just _once_, I’d like to be able to tell you anyway, just because I’m angry and I’m hurt. Just once, I’m going to tell you what I thought of all of that, and I’m going to pretend like that matters to anyone, in and of itself. I’m going to pretend I’m expecting you to meet me halfway. And then, after that, we can just go home, and I’m going to step the fuck out of this. And we’ll go back to the world where whatever _I_ thought, and whatever I deserved and whatever happened to _me…_ really aren’t the point. And I will focus on whatever everyone was _really_ thinking about, or aiming at, or _trying_ to do at the time. I’ll think about what you’re feeling and why you say these things, and I’ll just do my best not to add to that, and I’ll leave it to your real friends. That’s the deal. That’s the fantasy – so you tell me. This is a Yes/No question, so you can just nod – are you uncomfortable with this, and do you want to go?”

And Steve had been _so_ desperate to get out of this situation – just to get out of this gag – only a few seconds earlier. He’d _known_ that there was nothing more important than stopping this, that this whole ‘fantasy’ was just Tony leaving him forever and that all he had to do now was _speak_.

But, then…

_I’d just like to tell you, just once, why I’m so fucking mad at you_

…Oh, God, Steve wanted that.

He’d only just realised how _much_ he wanted that – that it was a deeper need than even what was going on between him and Tony.

And he thought, if he just nodded his head… Tony would stop this, and unchain him and take the tape off of his mouth, Steve knew he would…

And then what?

Steve would try to tell him, he’d try to explain how wrong Tony was and how much he loved him, he’d _try_ and take some of this pain away… and he’d get it all wrong, he knew he would.

And he pictured it – or, imagined the feeling of it, more. The _idea_ of being chained here, _unable_ to fuck this up… _while Tony just yelled at him._

So, his face still wet with tears, and his chest still trembling, Steve made himself look right at Tony.

And shook his head.

*

Tony hadn’t even felt himself slip into this entirely different space.

When he’d started this, it had been so much more knowing, more cerebral… more FOCUSed, maybe. Maybe that was it… But he’d started off thinking of this as some sort of closure. Whatever he’d said to Steve about it not meaning _anything_, what he’d really meant was that he didn’t expect it to mean anything to Steve. Tony had – rather sensibly – warned himself, before he did this, that Steve would not react the way he did in Tony fantasies. In fact, part of the reason Tony felt so confident in doing it was that, at the start, he’d been completely sure that Steve would just shrug it off. That he wasn’t actually asking anything more of Steve than a few moments indulgence, to just sit there and listen to a diatribe he didn’t agree with or care about, because it might make Tony feel better.

And, at the start, Tony had hoped it _would_ make him feel better. That it might not mean anything to Steve, or between the two of them – but that it might help Tony get this out of his system. Let him stop doing it in front of the mirror, or in his own head when he was trying to get to sleep… that it might in some way help him to let go, move on. That this might be one step towards the sad compromise he’d only just recognised, and bitterly accepted…

But, somewhere in the middle of his little speech, everything had started to… shift. The background had faded away and the immediate had started to feel so much more vivid, and… somewhere along the line, he’d stopped play acting. The whole thing stopped feeling so much like a prop in a daydream, and started to feel more… real. Like he wasn’t pretending to do this for a moment, so that he could image what it felt like. He _was_ doing this, right now, and it _did_ feel like this –

And, when he saw Steve cry, it didn’t seem odd.

It was what Steve _would_ do, in this fantasy. If this were real – this _was_ real-

And it wasn’t that Tony thought that Steve really felt it… he wasn’t thinking about what existed, outside of this moment. If he had, he probably still would’ve thought that Steve was just playing along… but it wouldn’t have occurred to him to question why Steve would do that. How Steve would know to do this so perfectly…

It just fit.

Tony was angry. And he was hurt. And he did so much want to be _seen_, to matter, just for a minute-

And now, in this minute, he did. He _felt_ like he did, _really_ did – he felt powerful, and important, and _right_. And it somehow didn’t matter that he still knew he wouldn’t be any of those things tomorrow, it still didn’t stop the totality of that feeling _now_. And that probably didn’t make sense, but it felt like it made sense-

And when Steve cried, and just shook his head, _that_ just made perfect sense-

_That_ was perfect.

That sent a sudden thrill through Tony that he didn’t think to question. A sharp, deep instinct – something not too far from ‘_go for the throat_’. Because Tony _didn’t_ want to hurt Steve… But he did want to _get_ to him. And, in the moment, the difference made perfect sense too. Everything just came so easily…

“You know what I’m _not_ annoyed at you for, Steve?” Tony began, confidently. “I’m not annoyed at you for refusing the support The Accords. I’m not mad at you for choosing to break the law. I’m not mad at you for wanting to help Bucky – I’m not even mad at you for choosing him over me. Maybe I was… and that would’ve been unfair, I guess...”

Tony remembered he’d meant to acknowledge that… that he’d intended to be more balanced than this…

But that was back when he’d been sensibly thinking about this as closure. That was when he’d been thinking this thing had some sort of forward function, that it was supposed to serve as a clean break… Back when it was meant to be a statement of some kind.

But it wasn’t that now.

Now, Tony was being quickly flooded with the adrenaline of this, the pure, basic _feeling_ of it… and his feelings just weren’t as grown up or as logical as that. And suddenly, he wanted to say them _all_ – he felt like he could, like he was supposed to, like he was just _in _that fantasy where he did… Now there was no further function, there was nothing outside of this moment. Now, Tony was just thinking of the things he wanted to say – chasing this building excitement, just the same as he would if he had chosen to fuck Steve instead.

This felt good.

And he didn’t care if it was selfish, or unfair, or if it wouldn’t work in the real world.

He _wanted_ to say-

“But I am so fed up with everyone talking like we’re on opposing sides of some great moral stand. I am _so_ fed up with people telling me you weren’t wrong for lying to me,” And he put out his right hand, palm up, like one side of a scale, “because you might’ve been right about something else.” And he held out his other hand, the other side of this scale that didn’t balance, and frowned, faux confused. “On the one hand, _Steve lied to me about my parents for two years. _On the other, _Yeah, but he really believed The Accords were wrong…_Hm, no, not seeing an answer to _my_ fucking question there… And I am so fed up with people answering me with ‘_but it’s Steve’_. With you not answering any of it at all. Never mentioning the things you did wrong. Walking away whenever _I_ mention it – with your team of super friends rolling their eyes behind you and asking when I’m going to get over it – with you, staring at the floor and telling me to _focus up_. Because, what, those things just _aren’t_ the focus? Just not what was important, so decrees Steve Rogers.”

And Tony even remembered, then, that he’d told himself _not_ to do this next bit. That it had occurred to him, and he’d dismissed it, because it wasn’t really on the theme and it wasn’t really to do with Steve-

And now that didn’t matter either.

Those thoughts weren’t relevant. Like the guy in the next room probably wasn’t thinking how The Facility fit into his view of feminism, or the woman on the other side probably wasn’t wondering if she was a rape apologist. And, of course, Tony knew this wasn’t fair in the real world – he had no intention of behaving this way in the real world.

But, God, in this moment, he just fucking _wanted_ to-

“And I am so fed up with people answering _what you did _with a speech about who you are, or what you fucking _meant_. And I am _so_ annoyed that those standards always apply to you, and _never_ to me – and, yeah, okay, maybe that’s not your fault, and maybe that’s my issue, but fuck it, it’s my fantasy and I’m saying it anyway. Do you know what Steve? I _meant well_, when I made ULTRON. I wasn’t _trying_ to hurt Rhodey, or Pepper, when got drunk at my fortieth birthday party. So, I guess those things just _weren’t wrong_, hm? I guess I just stoically tell everyone that ‘I know I’ve hurt them, and I wish they’d understand what I _meant_ when I did those things’ and everyone immediately forgets about it…”

And, God, _that_ felt good. He’d wanted to say that _forever_ – to Steve, to everyone _about_ Steve, to everyone who’d ever judged him ever. It wasn’t so much that it wasn’t about Steve, it was just that it was about _more_ than Steve-

And now, suddenly, this whole thing felt even more… _physical_, more-

“You know, Nat still agreed with me, on the principle, when she helped you. She literally said ‘Yeah, actually, _I agree with you_ – but Steve’s just not going to change his mind, and it’s _Steve_, so I guess you’ll have to – or else _you’re _a ego maniac’.”

And, yeah, he’d just wanted to say that too-

And, fuck, that felt good too…

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, it pisses me off that I have to fight on this unlevel playing field every single time. It pisses me off that _nothing_ I do can erase what people thought of me, that even though I’ve _never_ turned you in, or failed to have your back, you still didn’t stop to think you could trust me. But nothing you ever did would make people pause, for even a second, to think maybe I might have a point. That it might be worth _listening_ to what I was mad about, at least, before they just decided that I had to get over it – _because it’s Steve._ Yeah, fair enough, I’m mad at the world for that – but that includes you, with your dirty looks whenever I mention an arms dealer I’ve heard of, or you telling me that I’m tearing the Avengers apart _by signing the Accords._”

Oh! God! This point! This infuriating, _painful_ little itch, this thing he’d said so many times in his head, that he’d _so_ wanted to-

“_You_ can make a moral choice and it’s not only okay, it’s _good_, it’s _heroic_ that Steve won’t sign the Accords – we can’t even be annoyed at him for the _other stuff_, because it’s so _heroic,_ him following his principles on this, damned be the consequences. But me? _I’m_ tearing the Avengers apart. Not by going on a secret mission. Not by stealing a Quinn Jet. Not by harbouring a fugitive – by _signing the Accords. _And _you_ told me that, and I’m annoyed at _you_ for that. And I’m annoyed at _you_ because they’re your friends, who just stood there and treated me like that, and you _never_ corrected them – even though you were quick enough to correct _me_, if you didn’t like what I thought.”

Tony felt his whole body soften, as he let go of _that_ one, a bodily relief that rolled through his shoulders, that seemed to literally loosen his skin-

And Steve just looked at him with those wide, helpless eyes – _really_ listening, and…

_Good_.

“But you know what I’m _not_ annoyed at you for? I’m not annoyed at you for secretly plotting to hurt me. I’m not annoyed at you for being spiteful, or evil, or cruel. I know _obviously_ you didn’t set out to hurt me – you’re not a fucking super villain. Although I _am_ annoyed that, for me, _apparently_, that’s the line. I should be grateful you weren’t _trying_ to hurt me, because I’m not owed any more consideration than that. Really think about that as an answer. _Steve lied to me for two years – yeah, but at least he wasn’t doing it for revenge against you, like most people, what’re you moaning about._”

And Steve actually let out an anguished little moan, and…

_Good._

“You wanna know what I _am_ annoyed at you for, Steve?”

And, God, the electricity that ran through him in that moment. The anticipation of this, after all these years of build-up, the urgent need for this release-

The feeling that, just for a moment, he really _did_ matter. It was intoxicating. It was almost tempting to hold onto this moment – if he weren’t wound so tight by now, if wasn’t so desperate to _finally_ be able to say-

“You lied to me for two years about how my parents died. And that wasn’t just _one_ choice Steve. It wasn’t ‘a’ mistake you made, in the moment, under the conditions. It’s a mistake you made every day you saw me after that. Every time I thought we were just having a chat, that I knew who I was talking to. And, _on top of that_, you lied to me about Bucky, and you lied to me about you and Sam and Nat looking for Bucky – you _lied_ to me every time you had to cover up one of those missions, every time I asked you what you were thinking about, every time you mentioned my dad or the commandos or the fall of SHIELD. You met up with other people, secretly, and you discussed _my_ family and made plans _I couldn’t _ be a part of – _time and time again_. And then you have the audacity to tell me, I’m sorry about ‘that lie’. Like it’s this one thing you did, and not two years of total deception and manipulation and betrayal...”

He heard Steve choke back a hard sob, trying to curl in on himself, his arms still pinned awkwardly behind him. And Tony waited for him to catch his breath, to steady himself, before he went on-

He wanted to make _very_ sure that Steve heard this next bit.

“And, do you know what really gets me about that _whole_ lie, Steve? You know the bit that hurts me the most about your two year undercover mission, when you were undercover _from me_?”

And yes, he left another dramatic pause.

“_Ultron._”

And Steve stilled, this hopeless, lost look on his face…_what do you mean?_ And it didn’t even annoy Tony – because that’s what he was _meant_ to do.

That’s how the fantasy always went – because it wouldn’t be fun, it wouldn’t be satisfying, it wouldn’t be _real_, if Steve just folded immediately, would it? Tony wouldn’t get the chance to tell him-

“You stood there, in Clint’s back yard, and _glared_ at me – because _sometimes your team mates don’t tell you things._ You had the _gall_ to look me in the eye and say ‘whether you’d tell us, on the other hand…’ And I felt like _total _shit, because - For _a day_, while under the influence of an infinity stone, and a super villain who went on to be your best friend, while panicking about the need for a defence that I was totally right we needed, by the way – for that day, I’d kept that from you, and I felt terrible. And I apologised, and I apologised – and you stood there and let me. You lectured me about keeping secrets and not being a team player – _and literally, at that very moment, you were in the middle of a two year, off the books mission to apprehend the man that Hydra used to kill my parents!”_

And it was the first time he’d shouted – but, yeah, that felt good too.

And the way Steve recoiled felt good.

And the sudden, dreadful realisation in his eyes… yeah, that was _good_.

“And you didn’t once feel sorry for me, or think, hey, I know how people make these choices. If that wasn’t going to make you rethink keeping secrets from me, you’d think it’d at least make you nicer about it, if I’d kept a secret from you. But no. And even after that all happened, and I’d told you how fucking sorry I was for lying to you, you never once stopped to think that _maybe_ keeping secrets like that was bad – because it’s not, is it, when you do it?”

And Steve sobbed again, his chest shaking with the force of it now.

And, by now, Tony was just completely lost in this. Running with it, letting one thought crash into the next, letting it all just fall out of his mouth.

“And I _am_ angry at you, for so many of the things you did between Vienna and Siberia – _not_ because you felt you couldn’t sign The Accords, and not because you felt you had to help Bucky, but there _is_ a difference between doing what you think you have to, and just doing whatever the hell you think you will. Your pure motivations do not automatically mean that everything you do will be right, or that _you_ don’t have to think about that stuff, like the rest of us.”

“I’m angry that you didn’t tell me what was going on, as soon as Vienna happened. Even if you felt like you couldn’t tell me about my parents – even when that had actually become a mission relevant detail, that I maybe had professional right to know, even if you didn’t feel any personal obligation – but, even then. You didn’t tell me _anything_. You could’ve at least tipped me off that there was a fucking Super Soldiers thing, before the airport. You could’ve told Nat. You could’ve sent me a message that said, the world is in danger, I can’t tell you why, but there is more going on – _anything. _And, yes, I know you asked Sam, _once_, if _he_ thought you should tell me, and Sam said no. Sam already told me that – still defending you… And, do you know what, that isn’t good enough. That’s not a decision you get to hand off to _Sam_, when you’ve known me for years. _You_ were supposed to decided whether you should tell me _something_, and you _didn’t_. You didn’t even put forward a _case_ for telling me, you didn’t bother to think of a compromise, of what you _could_ tell me. And, yeah, I’m pissed at you for that.”

And, with that, Tony actually sprang up from the bed, leaping to his feet and instantly beginning to pace-

There was just so _much_.

The energy thrumming through him in that moment, the relief and excitement and _freedom_ of this-

“And there were plenty of things you could’ve done differently, and still not signed The Accords, and still prioritised Bucky. You didn’t _have_ to take on those Super Soldiers yourself. You could’ve told me. You didn’t _have_ to take Bucky with you on that mission. You didn’t have to take a poorly prepped team of people, some of whom your didn’t know, with no more guidance than _whatever it takes to get it done_. You know, Scott Lang could so easily have killed me.”

He saw Steve try to sit up then, try to look him in the eye – and took a step closer, so that he _could_ look down on him as he spoke.

“Clint just fired him _into_ my suit, and he just ran around pulling wires out at random, and wise cracking about me not listening to my conscience – was any of that on your orders, Steve? Were they _disobeying_ a direct order, not to be a smart ass? Did either of them know what any of those wires did, whether I was just going to drop out of the sky – if he was going to pull out an emergency response, that I’d not know wasn’t working, when Wanda was throwing cars at me – Do _you_ know how any of it works, Steve? You just assume the suit is magic, and will protect me from anything – did you _think_ I’d built in protection against a _tiny little man running around in it_? And if that _had_ happened, if I had just fallen out of the sky and died, or the suit had gone critical and burned me alive, or if he’d taken my safety system off line right before he threw a fucking _water truck_ at us – what then? Would you have been sorry _then_? Or would you have been telling Rhodey and Pepper at _my _funeral, I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, one day maybe you’ll understand – if only he’d signed the fucking Accords.”

Steve visibly wilted away from that image, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, tears streaming down his face now… And, yeah, that’s what he would’ve done, in a fantasy. It still didn’t occur to Tony that this meant Steve _really_ hated the idea of anything happening to him – only that, in the fantasy, he obviously would.

“And Rhodey _did_ get-”

But, no.

_That_ one he’d decided not to get into for a reason. If he started talking about Rhodey, that would be a _whole_ other thing…

No.

“It still pisses me off that you haven’t said anything to Rhodey, just because he’s a bigger man than me and is happy to let you strut around him anyway – _but that’s another thing_.” He said instead, pointedly leaving it there, before he changed the subject completely.

“And I’m annoyed at you, as the self appointed head of a team that called me a back stabber, that said you could never trust a Stark, that rolled their eyes at me when I went there to _help_ you, after everything – I told Sam, _I made a mistake_, and he told me, _there’s a first time for everything_. So I guess it wasn’t so incredible when I called the weapons company a mistake, seeing as no one even _remembers it_. Wonder if he would say it to you, if you ever _did_ admit a mistake”

He was shouting again now. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t _contain _it, this incredible, ever increasing _rush_-

“Clint slow clapped me as I walked in, told me it was all on me for thinking I knew what was best for everyone… Like I’d had you arrested for not signing. Like I was the one who’d said you tore the Avengers apart with a political opinion. When all I ever did was try to bend them and sell them and shape them so that you _could_ sign them - and when you couldn’t I wished you well, and Clint retired… And then I wasn’t prepared to let Ross and his men take you out at an airport. I was worried one of _them_ would get killed, if you didn’t. I did the same thing that you did for Bucky, when you went in to get him yourself in Bucharest, rather than let the army do it. That’s what they pilloried me for. And if you want to say, that’s them, not me – go on then, _tell_ them you disagree. Tell _me_ you disagree. Do something other than stand next to them with your hands on your belt looking sombre. Cos if you don’t want to do anything to distance yourself from any of that, then I am annoyed at you for that too.”

“And I’m angry you just stood in that Bunker and _looked_ at me. I’m angry you just let me watch that, that you didn’t think to leap in with a warning or an apology or _anything_. I’m annoyed that you tried to lie to me again, that you tried to tell me that you didn’t know it was him, that you just _left me there_. And, yeah, I know, there are reasons, there was context – we’re ignoring that for now. It’s a fantasy. It’s one moment where, however unreasonable it’d be in real life, however unpopular this point of view, I get to say it my way. I get to say the context that everyone _else_ leaves out. And do you know what, Steve?”

And there couldn’t have been more pleasure and excitement and _need_ in this moment, whatever Tony might’ve used this room to do. There couldn’t possibly be any bigger thrill, any greater fantasy, than being able to kneel back onto that bed, and look right at Steve, and tell him.

“You found out that my parents had been killed by Hydra, you found out what they’d done to Bucky, and you told Sam all about it, and you told Nat all about it, and the three of you conducted a secret man hunt that lasted two years – and you were lying to me the whole time. And when the shit hit the fan, you prioritised helping Bucky over everything else, without doing any of the things you could have done to make it _easier_ on me, even. You didn’t tell me you were going in to help Bucky in Bucharest, you didn’t tell me the full story even while I was trying to broker a deal to keep you all out of prison, you didn’t call me or leave me a message after Bucky broke out of the compound – you didn’t tell me about my parents then, even when you knew it was relevant, when it had been the big main clue. You didn’t tell me about the super soldiers, then. You call Clint, and tell him to get Wanda, and you get Sam to hire a convicted criminal he’s met once, and – taking Bucky with you – you try to steal a Quin Jet from an airport. Your plan includes letting Scott Lang run around my suit pulling wires out. It does not involve evacuating the airport. Your one attempt to explain is the line ‘this is all that psychiatrist’s fault’ – which didn’t mean a fucking thing to me at the time, by the way. And when I ask you to come home, and discuss it, and work _with_ me rather than tear everything apart, you tell me it’s my fault because I signed The Accords. And then my best friend gets paralysed, because you couldn’t have your best friend put into any sort of psychiatric facility while we sort this out.”

“But I _still_ want to help you. I still go to the raft, and _apologise, _while everyone calls me a backstabber – for what? Not letting Ross arrest them instead? Not sending an army of people who’d try to kill you, or get killed trying? Not just letting you all run off on a mission that I knew nothing about, other than it was going to get you killed. Knowing only that, apparently, one of the people on your team can be triggered into _shooting me in the face_, whether it’s his fault or not. And I apologised for all of that, and came to help you anyway – and then when Zemo started rolling that tape, you just stood there, and let me watch it, and never even said ‘are you okay’. You gave me the same ‘I could do this all day’ line as you gave any other bully, and you rammed a shield into my heart, and you left me there. And _then_ Bucky decided he’d rather be in a secure psychiatric facility after all. And you were happy to leave him in _that_ environment, being looked after by a 16 year old you’d never met, and her brother, who’d spent the last three days trying to murder him. You had no doubts that one of them might secretly work for Ross, or be manipulated by the system, or just fuck it up. Even though it had all been too big a risk to tell me anything. And then, after all of that, you send me a letter that says you hope I’m not rattling around a mansion, and you hope one day I’ll understand. You never call me or contact me again in any way. And _then_, when I get back from nine days in space, not knowing if Peter is so dehydrated and malnourished that there will be permanent repercussions, you tell me I need to _focus_ up, that you all need to be sure there isn’t still a threat out there and that Thanos’ army has been destroyed – Thanos was dead! But even then, there was no time to discuss it. And in all this time, you’ve told me _once_ that you’re sorry. Not even that you were sorry – that you were sorry my feelings were hurt. You were sorry I didn’t agree with you. That one line, in a whole letter, and never another word since. You just wanted to come home. So, of course, I said yes.”

And Tony actually _laughed_, really laughed, at that idea… But really, it was just the pure _joy_ of just having said that. Of finally getting to the fucking end of it, before someone could leap in and tell him what an ass he was…

And, maybe, if Steve _had_ just sat there stoically and listened, Tony would’ve ended it there. Maybe Tony wouldn’t have fallen quite so far into this fantasy, if Steve hadn’t played his part so very well…

He’d told himself not to do this next bit. To remember that the next bit was _only_ fun in his head… that it never worked out the way it did in his daydreams…

But… This just _was_ one of his daydreams, now.

And his fantasies never ended here.

As much fun as it was, as good as it felt, to finally get his say… This had only ever been the start of it. This was just foreplay. In the fantasy, in the purest sense, Tony got to see the reaction to this-

And he wanted to, now.

And it didn’t occur to him to question it – he just ran with it. Falling from one fantasy line to the next. Rushing onto the next bit because he _wanted _it. Because he wanted it now more than he ever had, now that he’d worked himself up into this state, now that everything was out there and _everything_ was cut open – yeah, he _wanted_ to make Steve answer him.

“So, go on then Steve” He whispered, leaning closer “_Now_ tell me how glad you am I’ve got a compound to ‘rattle around’ in. Now tell me about your faith in people who haven’t let you down. Now tell me you’re sorry that your best laid plan’s hurt my feelings, that you hope I understand-”

And he ripped the tape from Steve’s mouth with a _deeply_ satisfying force, feeling completely entitled to hold Steve’s face as he tried to flinch away.

“Go on Steve, _tell me why I’m wrong.”_

And Steve just-

_Broke_.

His first attempts to say something were completely swallowed up by a grief-stricken, heart-felt sob, his shoulders shaking with the effort of it, his whole body pressed down under the weight of it…

It was probably the exact sound Steve would’ve made in any of Tony’s fantasies…

…and yet…

As Steve struggled _so_ earnestly to catch his breath, tried so desperately to speak…

Oh, Tony wasn’t sure he _did_ like this…

“_I’m sorry Tony, I’m so sorry, I-”_ But it was cut off again by another choking sob, another frantic attempt to swallow – and still he kept trying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry-”

And, in a weird way, it was exactly what Tony had been expecting Steve to say… until he said it. Until Tony heard the genuine, naked remorse in Steve’s voice and realised just how _shocked_ he was by it – that he’d never _really_ thought he’d ever hear Steve say-

And, God, it was like being shocked to his senses. Not _unlike_ the moment, on the floor of that Siberian Bunker, when his anger fuelled psychosis had passed and the world he was looking at seemed to change before his eyes… the same sinking realisation that…

_Oh, God, this is real_.

*

Steve had never felt as much in his life as he did in this moment.

It was like his was _full_, like his lungs were bursting and there was just too much blood trying to pump through his heart, like there were _so many words_ – like he’d have liked to _cut_ all this out of him, like just speaking or begging or screaming weren’t going to be enough.

He was just felt _so _miserable,

And _so_ frightened

And _so_ sorry, just so, _so_ sorry

And so… free?

Like there was nothing left to lose, no more it could possibly hurt, nothing he could possibly ruin more than he had – nothing that could possibly be worse that just losing Tony now, like _this._ So, no, it wasn’t _nice_… but, in a perverse sort of way… There was something nice about it. Something surprising about how easily the words came now, some thrill of potential or abandon as he realised, he was _just_ speaking

“I am _so_ sorry, Tony. I don’t know how to – there aren’t words for – I… would do _anything_ to take all of that back, I hate myself for all of that, for _more_ than that, I have ruined my entire life, and so many other peoples, and I swear I never meant for any of that to happen and I tried so hard for it not to happen and everything I did just made it worse – and I can’t think _what_ I can say to you now, because I can’t ask you to forgive me and I can’t ask you to understand me and you already know I was reckless and selfish and wrong. I don’t have any right to say any of the things I… I know you won’t believe me, and you must think – and every time I try, it just comes out all wrong, and… there are so many things I can’t explain, I just-”

And then he saw the way Tony’s face changed. The way it softened slightly, his lips parting and his eyes widening…

There was something so compelling in that, in and of itself. The fact that Tony looked so beautiful. The fact that he looked so… _open_, and _vulnerable_, for just a second…

And it wasn’t the cold, resigned look of before.

Just that was enough. A beacon of light in a sea of suffocating, bottomless darkness – Steve didn’t know _what_ that look was, but it wasn’t ‘goodbye’, and Jesus, that would do. In the moment, he’d cling to that, he’d cling to anything

_Keep talking_

_Keep him here_

_Keep trying-_

“I swear, I didn’t mean ‘I hope you understand’ like that. I didn’t mean that I was _just_ sorry you were hurt. I was so sorry for all those things, and I just – didn’t think you’d want to hear any of it. I didn’t know whether to send that letter at all, and then I couldn’t think what I could possibly say, if I should try and explain it or if that would just come across as giving excuses, if I should just tell you that I’m an idiot and honestly, I don’t even _know_ how it all went that horribly…” And, God, he didn’t know if he was doing any of this right…

_But he thinks you don’t care about him_

_He thinks no one cares about him_

Nothing he could say could be as wrong as that. He _had_ to explain-

“I just meant I was sorry for _that_ more than anything. That, of all the choices I made and all the consequences that came with it, the thing that kept me up at night was thinking of you – and knowing I’d be furious with, that I’d _hate_ anyone who’d done that to you, and _I’d_ tell you never to bother with that person again, if it wasn’t me, so what could I… And I know it must seem – I swear it wasn’t that I didn’t care, I swear I thought about _you_ the whole time that…”

_Instinctively_, Steve knew that he wasn’t supposed to tell Tony he loved him. It was like muscle memory now, a process that just happened… the frustration of it was so familiar… this was just ‘that reason’ that everything was so difficult, the natural law that meant he could never explain…

“I spent the whole time tied in knots about what might happen and how I could… and _I _know I should’ve done all those things, now, it seems so obvious now, and I can’t explain what I was thinking then, just that I did really try to… do the _right_ thing, and everything I thought of, there were just all these other questions, all the _other_ things that might go wrong if I did something different – But the whole time I _was_ thinking about how not to hurt you, how to keep you out of it, how to protect you from the consequences of it, how to make sure I had everything together when I – I know I made all the wrong choices, and it’s so obvious now and I feel ridiculous saying any of this, and I don’t expect you to believe me, I just…”

And, at last he recognised what that resistance was. He remembered the words for this frustration, he _looked_ right at that instinct that he hadn’t questioned in so long…

_I can’t explain this unless I tell him-_

…And I _have_ to explain-

“I love you. I am madly in love with you.” He surrendered.

And, God, that felt…

Steve wasn’t prepared for how immediately, physically good it was going to feel, just to _say_ that out loud.

It was like he’d put down a heavy weight.

Like he’d finally taken a full breath after years of nearly suffocating.

And, from feeling an instinctive, bodily resistance to it, suddenly, Steve couldn’t _stop_ saying it. It just-

“From the very first moment I met you, you just – _terrified_ me. You were just so… _everything_, so much of everything, so bright and different and fast and…_beautiful_, and you weren’t like anyone else, and it wasn’t like falling in love with anyone else. It was… confusing, and painful, and I didn’t – I didn’t understand how anyone _just talked_ to you, I didn’t know what level of interested or impressed or attracted or grateful to be, because I knew I couldn’t tell you how much of all of that I really felt-”

“Why?” Tony breathed, sounding so genuinely baffled, so… overwhelmed – and Steve wanted to stop to take that in, but he _couldn’t_. He just couldn’t stop this now. There were too many words, too many feelings, that had been packed in behind this wall he’d built, and now he’d broken through it-

“Because what would happen after _that_? Because I… literally can’t remember if I knew that homosexuality wasn’t a crime by then – I think that’s about as much as I’d worked out. And you had a girlfriend, and I didn’t think you liked men, and I certainly didn’t think you liked _me_ – you were the only person who _didn’t_ treat me like… you never… I _never_ thought you could – I mean, I’d _already_ fucked it up so many times by then. And I know that I always came across as judgemental or disinterested or ungrateful, but only because I was trying so hard not to come across as… to not make everything more uncomfortable and complicated, but, still, I thought you just… didn’t like me. I just thought that every time we talked it was awkward and I got it all wrong and I made you feel bad, so why would you – And, you were the only person I’d ever met who didn’t give a shit about Captain America, and what the fuck else was there? I literally didn’t even know at that point – and all I could remember about the person I was before that is that no one thought that much of him, and I, just, I didn’t-”

When he gasped for air then it tasted sweet. A dizzy sort of elation thrummed through him along with the rush of oxygen, an immediate desire to keep chasing this, to feel more of this…

“I didn’t know I _could_ hurt your feelings like that. I know that sounds – but I didn’t think you cared what I thought, I didn’t think you’d think of me dismissing you or not trusting you or just not caring about what happened to you, I didn’t think you’d think about any of that at all – if I’d known _that_, I would’ve told you Tony, I swear to God. I just thought you’d think I was an idiot. I just thought you’d be thinking that I was reckless and selfish, and I’d let the whole team down because I hadn’t done my _job_. I thought that’s what you were annoyed about – and I didn’t think you were wrong to be angry about any of it, and I… I did think there were maybe parts of that you’d… there were parts of _that_ I could wish you’d understand, because I thought _that_ was the bit that stopped you trusting me or wanting me on this team. I thought if I could convince you it wasn’t just arrogance or… that I wasn’t opposed to regulation, or, I don’t know I just…”

“I _never_ thought I’d have to convince you that I cared about you. And I know that sounds so stupid, after that list of all the things I did, but I just… didn’t think you’d even wonder about that, I didn’t. And God, the idea that it’s actually your _fantasy_ to just talk like you matter – the thought that I made you feel like – I didn’t know you _ever_ felt like you were… _less_, than other people, Jesus Christ Tony, you’re…” And Steve only cared that he was crying again because it was getting in the way. Because he didn’t want to have to swallow back these sobs before he could tell Tony “I never even thought about you feeling unloved, or unwanted, or like you were actually worth less than other people, I just… you’re…_you_, and now I… Just the thought that I let you down like _that_, and… I know you’re right. And that sounds… because you’re _wrong,_ and how can I… Because I know, I – we, did do all of that, and I can’t tell you not to feel that way about it, because now that you say it, obviously that’s… how can I tell you you’re wrong about that, when I _was_ thoughtless and careless and… But I _was_ thinking about you, and I do care about you, and – this is why I never say any of this, because I know it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t fit, and… The truth is, it’s just a mess. It’s just a horrible, hopeless, _stupid_ mess that I got myself into, and then dug myself further into just trying to get out of it, just trying to stop everything falling into it, and I just…”

“I thought every day for two years about telling you about your parents… and I remember thinking that, I didn’t have any evidence that it _was_ Bucky and I didn’t know anything about how it had happened, and you’d want to know… and I remember thinking that maybe you _would_ try to help, if you knew we were looking for Bucky, and then you’d be caught up in all the risks we’d taken and you might lose everything over it, and how could I…and I remember thinking that you might try to stop me, that no one else would, but you might, and, what would I do then… because I so _didn’t_ want to fight you, and I couldn’t bear to lose you, is the truth. And I know that’s selfish, and I probably knew it then, but every time I thought about telling you, and I pictured you getting upset, and I knew I just _wouldn’t_ know what to say, and… then another day would go by and I hadn’t made a decision, and then it had been so long, and I knew you’d ask why I hadn’t told you before, and… I don’t really know what I thought would happen in the end. That, if we found Bucky, if I could explain it right, after it was over, I don’t know…”

And Steve didn’t feel himself fall even deeper into himself. He didn’t realise that the tear he’d made to let all this out was just growing and growing under the pressure of everything _else_ he’d put behind that wall. He didn’t see that he’d slipped from talking about Tony to talking about everything…

But then, Tony _was_ everything, so maybe that was why it all still made sense…

“It was just… all so much, then. And I know it sounds pathetic, and I’m supposed to be Captain America and I know all of us have, I mean, what you’ve been through too, and I know I can’t really say… but, I just… _everything_ had already fallen to pieces. SHIELD being Hydra, I just… couldn’t, I’d just… built such shaky foundations in this new world, and then it was just, _everything_ all at once, and I just… thought… _Bucky_ is out there somewhere. And I _promised_ him, before any of this happened, before I was anything, and it was just this one thing I was certain of when nothing else made sense, and I just… _panicked_, and then it all just got so much worse…”

He was racing now, trying to keep up with his thoughts, whole sentences lost in choked off sobbing-

“And then Vienna happened and it just… all collapsed, I don’t – I didn’t – you say it’s nothing to do with The Accords, but they scared me to death anyway, and I _know_ everyone thinks that’s so paranoid and… It’s just, sometimes you hear people say, ‘this is how Nazi Germany happened’, about some policy decision in a modern company or a Western Democracy… and everyone always rolls their eyes, because it always sounds so dramatic, and people always think they’re so far away from that… but I was there, and _I _don’t know how Nazi Germany happened. How ordinary people could…”

God, he wanted to find the words for this. If he was going to have this breakdown, and all the consequences that came with it – he’d always wanted to much to find some way to say _this_ out loud, to be able to share it with someone, somehow-

“And yeah you can trace that horror back to all those little things at the start, but at the start they were just little things, and _now_ I just think I wish I’d… I think, if I could go back, if I’d been in Germany when all that was happening, then obviously I wouldn’t have just let it… but then I _was_ there, when SHIELD – and it wasn’t like I didn’t know things, like I hadn’t already been uncomfortable about Phase Two or Operation Insight, but I’d just thought, surely someone must be the good guys, and then I just let that… Bucky was there for _years_ before I, because when I _was_ there, I still didn’t… and then The Accords happened, and I swear I tried to keep it separate. And I do know there needs to be oversight, and I didn’t even disagree with anything you were saying, it was just the other stuff, that I didn’t trust Ross and I didn’t like the tone of the document, and I did try to say why, but… I just don’t have the words for it. And when you said Wanda had been… _interned,_ I just – and I _never_ thought you thought of it that way, honestly Tony, I never thought _you_ – it was the system I didn’t trust. And I just thought that… was that _that_ moment where I was supposed to say something? And I know it’s a separate thing, I never _meant_ to get it all mixed up with, with us and… But I really thought that Bucky was about to be arrested by a corrupt system and… It just seemed to matter, at the time…”

“And I’m sorry I said that about you tearing the Avengers apart – I didn’t mean that. I don’t… even remember saying that, I know that sounds… Awful, but I just… I _so_ wanted to get away from that airport before you found us there, I just… wanted it to be over, I just thought if we got there, and stopped those super soldiers before you had to get involved that _maybe_ it could all be okay, that I could still… Fix it…”

And, God, he’d thought about saying that _exact_ thing before, and he’d dismissed it because _Captain America_ can’t think like that – because he’d felt so sure he’d just make everything _worse_, by admitting that he hadn’t been sure, even at the time-

…But, oh, this felt good.

…Just being honest, being _human-_

“And you’re right, I was still so unsure when that happened, and I did it anyway, because it was happening then… and I didn’t… I couldn’t _not_ be sure. I did have to…lead that team, and God, Tony, it was never _meant_ to be that. And I know it sounds so… entitled or whiney or… but I never wanted it to be that, I’ve never wanted that. I wish I could’ve been unsure, that I could’ve _asked_ Sam or Clint what they _thought,_ or just told them what I thought and let them, I don’t know, decide what they were going to do – and it isn’t like that, and it’s never like that.”

Oh, and he was shouting now too…

“It’s, I say what I think, and they say ‘whatever you say Cap’ and… how can I complain about that, I’m not complaining about that, I just – you can’t ask someone to not be _quite_ that loyal. You can’t say, yeah, I do think there is an army of Super soldiers, and I really would like your help with this, but could you be just a _little_ less ready to help me than that? Couldn’t we just be the people that think this is a good idea, not me and everyone always willing to… God, this sounds… And they _were_ there when I asked them to be, and… you’re right, I never really thought how it would feel if it were the other way around, I didn’t think of it as them turning on _you_, I didn’t mean to make it that… I just – I had to be sure, and I had to make it… I had to ‘lead a team’ and now I feel like they _are_ my team, and I can’t… I _can’t_ just say, yeah, Clint was an ass on the raft, not like Sam or Scott could, not when I talked him into it and I’ve asked him to be loyal to it and we’re in this _team_ together – and then, when I don’t say it… Honestly, I really wish I didn’t have to say anything about _everything_ everyone else did, I wish it could just be stuff _they_ did, but I know it isn’t… and even if it was, I know not saying anything isn’t… I know it must seem like I just never stood up for you ever, I’m not saying I wish I didn’t have to stand up for you, or that I don’t want to, I just… I wish I just could, without it being…”

But he could now, couldn’t he? He could say it _now_-

“But God Tony, if I’d known it would’ve mattered, if I’d ever thought you needed anyone to stand up for you, if I’d thought it would mean anything coming from _me_ – other than it just coming out all wrong… But I am sorry Tony. I am so, so sorry, for everything. If I could take it all back, I’d do anything, if I could just go back and tell you the truth from the start – if I’d known how you felt at the start, all this time…”

Oh, God, he couldn’t say it now, could he? There just weren’t words for this, there was no way to explain, no way to make Tony see-

“I _love_ you, I have always loved you, and all I ever wanted was for you to like me, to be more _like_ you, to just, to just stop fucking it up, and I couldn’t and – it’s me. I know it’s me, and all the things I couldn’t say, and couldn’t do – but, God, Tony it was never that _you_ didn’t deserve more, you always deserved more than me, and I know it, and…”

He could feel himself reaching some sort of limit. A sudden, sharp building in these emotions, a edge on his desperation to get this out, a feeling like he was so _close_ to-

“Oh, God Tony, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me, please – I swear, I can be better, I will be better, I’ll never lie to you or hurt you like this ever again, please just give me a chance-”

“Oh, God, Steve-”

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I swear I will, I will do _anything_, I’ll-”

And then some balance in him tipped, as his tears got fed up of waiting politely behind his words, and his whole being just broke down into sobbing. All attempts to carry on with it had to be abandoned in favour of gasping for air, his body no longer able to hold it together in the face of all of this. And his throat hurt with the force of crying so hard, and his muscles felt weak, and his arms were trembling hard enough to shake the chains around them – and he _wanted _to put his head in his hands, to curl up in a ball and just disappear, but he could only drop his head and bring his knees up and just _cry_. And it hurt. It was probably the most painful moment of his whole life-

But, even _then_… there was such an overwhelming sense of relief.

A horrible relief, in that moment. Like he’d just hacked off a wounded limb. The same relief you might feel when a loved one finally loses a long battle with a painful illness, or when the enemy finally break through that line you knew you never had any chance of holding… the relief that comes _along with_ a terrible loss, a niceness you can somehow feel at the same time as feeling utterly and completely ruined…

…but he felt _done_, at least.

That was all he had, all there was, and it was going to be agony when it wasn’t enough… but he’d done it. He’d given up on everything, and now, as well as feeling miserable and guilty, he did at least feel completely and totally spent…

And _then_.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, everything is going to be okay, I promise”

Steve didn’t even hear the words at first.

Just the kindness in Tony’s voice, that gentle tone Steve hadn’t heard in _so_ long…

It was like a balm on a burn.

It worked immediately, before Steve had any chance to name it or process it or understand it- he _didn’t_ understand it, he didn’t know where this sudden burst of…_reassurance_, and…_happiness_, could possibly have come from, when everything had been _so_ dark-

“I’m so sorry Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

And, oh, his hand was on the back of Steve’s neck, so tender, and loving and-

_Oh, God, I don’t understand, I don’t-_

“Tony, I love you, I-” He heard himself sob, not sure what he was trying to say when his voice broke again.

“Oh, Steve, I love you, I’ve always loved you, I’ve never stopped loving you, I’ve never loved you more than I do right now, it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay, come here-”

And Tony leant into him, reaching behind him to unlatch the cuffs on Steve’s wrists. Steve fell forward before he could stop himself, unaware of how he’d been pulling against the chains – and Tony just pulled him in, and held him against his chest… and Steve threw his arms around him, and buried his head in Tony’s shoulder, and _cried_.

And, God, it was like dying. It was overwhelming, and all consuming, and he _didn’t_ understand it but it was just happening to him anyway. This complete abandon, this total _peace_, this was just… _wonderful_, he didn’t-

And then Tony’s hand was on the back of his head, cradling him close, whispering to him, over and over, _it’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be okay…_

Steve didn’t understand _how_ that could be true, after everything-

But it was.

It absolutely was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this scene, Tony decides to chain Steve to the bed, and gag him, and force Steve to listen to him say exactly why he's so angry - after which, he does ungag Steve and give him a chance to respond.  
So, to start with, there is no sexual contact in this scene, just in case anyone is going to be anxious reading it, wondering if it's going to turn that way - it's not.  
Tony also makes that clear to Steve at the start, so there is no implied sexual violence or power play, and Tony does give Steve one yes/no chance to continue or get out of this - although, as its a non sexual situation, he hasn't bothered with prior discussion or a safe word or anything, and he continues to tell at Steve even when he looks visibly upset.  
However, there are some not very subtle parallels here to a sub/dom sexual scene, in so far as Tony is, quite knowingly, excited to finally be in control and to assume some power - and Steve is quite knowingly excited at the idea of being powerless for once, and even the idea of Tony 'punishing him' - in this case by yelling. (these are themes they continue to explore in the next update, but under very different circumstances)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE NOTES TIME!  
So, firstly - I know these two still have things left to discuss, and a *little* bit more talking to do before they're really in a good place with this... But I figured they'd been through enough for the moment, and deserved a little break.  
On which note - yes, there is smut. One and a half whole scenes of smut - and for anyone a little disappointed that the second scene fades to black, this is only because a) story flow means some of the details end up in the next chapter and b) they get to explore these ideas in a similar and more graphic scene later on. 😏  
(there is considerably more smut in the latter part of the story.)  
Also, just to be on the safe side, there are more details in the end notes - the only dub-con element of this whole thing is the fact that they're on drugs, but there is that, and there are some sub-dom themes explored. 
> 
> And, yeah, really hope you like it! 😰

Tony had spent the last few minutes in a state of highly focused shock. A strangely distant hyper awareness, in which he could see every detail and hear every word – but he couldn’t remember thinking a single thing about any of it. It was like his brain just knew to shut the fuck up, in case he missed anything.

And then Steve broke down, and _begged-_

_Oh, this is wrong._

Tony had been so very wrong about something… so many things…

And it wasn’t even _about_ any of the points he’d just made.

It wasn’t about any of the disagreements they’d ever had, or any of the things they’d done to each other.

This was more basic than that. More _fundamental_. This wasn’t a variable he had to work in or an element he had to alter or a collection of arguments he had to rethink. It wasn’t just an unexpected outcome to this equation – it was one that should’ve been impossible. Something that would require a comprehensive overhaul of his whole understanding of physics…

_Oh, I’ve built so many points and plans, whole perspectives_ , _ on something very wrong…_

He didn’t even know what they _were_ yet, he just felt like everything was… _different_ now, that he’d-

And then Steve cried. _Really_ cried.

And, God, that was just _wrong_.

_That _was wrong in the visceral, instinctive way that limbs-bent-backwards are wrong. The same sudden sickness in his gut, the same _animal_ desperation to fix it. This was…all _twisted,_ and… _unacceptable_, he-

-Just gave up and threw his arms around Steve. The same unthinking way he’d immediately try to cover a bleeding wound. He’d process the rest of this in a minute, but right now he just had to- He just had to _hold_ him, and, just – he had to tell him-

_Oh, Steve, I love you, I’ve always loved you, I’ve never stopped loving you, I’ve never loved you more than I do right now, it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay, come here…_

And he pulled Steve close, and… he felt Steve melt into his neck…

Steve’s sobs came even harder then, and deeper… but…broader, slower… more _expansive,_ somehow…

Less panicked and desperate.

His body softened under Tony’s hands, his frightened gasping eased into hard, ragged breaths. And Tony just stroked his hair, and kissed the side of his face very softly, and didn’t stop to think that he’d never usually do this. And then he heard the slightest edge of relief on Steve’s breathing, he _felt_ Steve begin to relax in a far more complete and natural way…

…Something about _this_ was very right, though.

And Tony knew, whatever it was, it had nothing to do with whatever he’d been so wrong about. This was an entirely separate – but equally fundamental – understanding…

_This_ was right…

_This_ was good…

“I _am_ sorry Tony, I am-” Steve hiccupped again, just as soon as he was able. And Tony curled his hands more tightly around him, and whispered close,

“It’s okay baby, I know you are, it’s alright, I’m sorry too, I’m sorry…”

And Steve lifted his head to look at him, helpless and hopeful and confused-

And beautiful. So beautiful.

“Oh, Steve, I… I was only ever mad at you because I thought you weren’t sorry. And I was only ever hurt because I thought you didn’t care-”

“I _am_ sorry, I-”

“It’s okay, I know, I know…” Tony soothed…

And… as he was saying it…

…Oh, God, he _did_ know that.

_Steve is sorry-_

_I can forgive him._

And Tony realised just how much he’d _wanted_ to forgive him. That he hadn’t _wanted_ to get over Steve or move on from Steve – that he _liked_ being in love with Steve, and all he’d wanted was any reason to keep doing that… Tony realised how he’d pushed that line back so many times, negotiated himself down and down on what he could accept as an acknowledgement or a reason… How he’d _tried_ to find a defence for Steve, even when he was angry at him – how frustrated he’d been that he just couldn’t do it without _some_ sort of apology. That he couldn’t make this better because he couldn’t _make_ Steve sorry, that he couldn’t quite resign himself to surrendering his dignity and his feelings to _that_ degree, that if Steve would just give him _something_-

And the relief of knowing that he _could_ forgive Steve – that he really _did_ forgive Steve, he just did, he didn’t even have to move the line or let something go – God, that was wonderful.

…Even along with the sudden guilt.

“Please don’t leave me Tony” Steve whispered, his voice still trembling.

“Oh God, I’m not leaving you, I’ll never leave you, I swear” Tony promised, over the terrible, chilling recognition that-

_Oh, God, I was leaving him._

Jesus, Tony had been right in the middle of turning his back on Steve. He really _had_ thought that… God, he couldn’t remember _what_ he’d thought – how he’d been that fucking _sure_ of-

It was like being brought out of a trance and realising there was a gun in his hand. The sudden instinct to not just put it down but toss it aside, to flinch away, to overcorrect. He could not _believe_ what he’d almost done; he couldn’t stop himself picturing the outcome he’d so narrowly avoided.

“Steve, listen to me, listen…” Tony breathed, trying to calm _himself_ down. Trying to think how to explain this properly, before his emotions ran away with him completely.

And he lamented that he had to take his hands off of Steve to demonstrate, but he was having serious problems finding his words. So, he held out his left hand, somewhere down near their waists,

“Okay, so, there are the mistakes you _actually_ made” and glanced at it pointedly, _see, all the way down here_, before he added, “And there is the hurt it caused me” And he held out his right hand, _way_ above his head. “And I know, I _know_, that I can’t lay all of this hurt on you. And all of _this_…” And he did his best to gesture at the difference, the proportion of his ‘hurt’ scale that sat over and above his ‘Steve’s mistakes’ indicator. “The reason it hurt _so_ much when you did those things is… well, lots of reasons that aren’t your fault. Because the world has hurt me, because _I _have issues. Because I was so in love with you, and because I didn’t think you loved me back, because I thought you were just dismissing me – and now I see you weren’t, so what I’m really saying is that’s me being annoyed at something in _my_ head, it’s just… _This_.” And he gestured again to the _mistakes you made_ column – his hand getting lower and lower as he spoke “_This_ is not the end of the world. This is you make an understandable mistake, and I’m hurt, and you say sorry and then I’m not hurt any more and it’s fine. And then I’m not angry and I still love you, and you’re still…”

Oh, there was just so much. Tony suddenly realised just how much he had to say to Steve – how much of it he still had to work out.

…He was only just remembering that he was still on drugs

“And, I know that wasn’t exactly a balanced assessment, I wasn’t – I wasn’t even trying to be fair, I didn’t think you’d, I didn’t, I’m… sorry”

But, Jesus, Steve looked more beautiful with every second… this look of, sort of…awe-struck wonder had come over his face, and his eyes looked even bluer, and… God, it was more than beautiful. It was _Steve_. It was everything he’d fallen in love with, all right there-

“No, Tony, I… can’t believe I _ever_ made you feel that way, that you didn’t know-”

“Steve-”

“-And it _is_ my fault, I _should _have-”

“_Steve, _Steve, it’s okay, it’s…”

But as he watched Steve’s face… He didn’t know what it was. Whether it was the drugs, or the release of all this tension, or everything he’d just found out. But, suddenly, after all these years trying in vain to guess what Steve was thinking…He just felt like he understood him so well, now.

…He saw that Steve _wanted_ this.

He _wanted_ to tell Tony he was sorry…

“I hate that I’ve hurt you, that, of all people, it’s _you_ I let down like this, I hate hearing you say you’re not like other people to me-”

At first, Tony was worried that maybe Steve felt like he needed to be punished, or something… That Tony had made him feel like that…

But, as Steve carried on talking, his words coming faster and more fluidly and with a certain sort of…_elation_, Tony realised it wasn’t that.

He saw how much Steve just needed to _speak_.

How much he just needed to _be_.

That he didn’t want to tell Tony he was sorry so much as he just wanted to be able to say what he was thinking, however dramatic and impulsive and in the moment.

That he needed to _let go. _

And, okay, Tony really couldn’t take any comfort or credit for it, because he really hadn’t planned it this way… But he could see that this had actually been just as important for Steve as for him.

…That this was just the start of all the things Steve needed, just one of so many things he’d be forced to hold back-

“And you’re _not_ like other people to me, you aren’t like anyone else, and I don’t love _anyone_ the way I love you, and there isn’t anyone I’ve thought about more than I’ve thought about you. And, if I ever lied to you when you asked me what I was thinking, it was almost always because I was thinking about you – and I know it sounds ridiculous for me to say, why didn’t you know I cared about you, when I was always so scared of you finding out how much I cared about you, how much I – wanted, you…”

Tony heard him stutter just slightly, a different sort of tension pinching his shoulders straight. Steve’s gaze ran over Tony’s body so quickly, like he still wasn’t convinced he was allowed to look, his breath gathering in his chest as he met Tony’s eye again-

Oh, there was that awareness of his body again – stronger now, and…deeper…

_This…_

…was about more than just his body.

And he put his hand to the side of Steve’s face, just _letting_ his thumb trace over Steve’s jaw, feeling a shiver along his spine as he watched the same feeling run through Steve-

And it was _everything_.

It was how beautiful Steve was and how much Tony had always wanted him… the rapidly dawning realisation that, no, they _actually_ could…

It was how much Tony loved him, and what Tony could do to show him… the incomprehensible idea that Steve loved him back…

It was the relief of letting go of all of this tension – _all_ of it. The yelling at him _and_ the comforting him, the telling him was angry… but oh, being able to tell him he _wasn’t_ angry…

_Not_ being angry. Jesus, for the first time in _years-_

Watching Steve let go of it, _wanting _Steve to let go of it, wanting so much to just make Steve feel good…

…And, yeah, it was probably also partly the drugs.

But, altogether, that gentle touch was about the most intense thing Tony had ever felt – and that hopeful, questioning look in Steve’s eyes, the way his lips parted…

“Tony…” Steve breathed, his eyes dropping to Tony’s mouth as he leaned closer.

And then Steve’s lips finally brushed against his, and parted so naturally, and just melted against him – and, God, it was like he was just _falling_-

The feeling of Steve, warm and solid against his chest, the soft heat of his mouth, the entreating, almost hesitant way Steve put his hands to Tony’s back-

_Oh, God, he’s so strong, so _

_beautiful and brave and sweet,_

_Steve_

_my Steve_

It was like all that love, and all that relief, all that released tension and hope and soothed hurt, was in this one kiss. Tony felt his body take over completely, every part of him trying to press closer, every sense just flooded with him.

And then Steve gasped, his eyes flashing briefly with something like anxiety, his forehead still pressed to Tony’s and trying to mouth a silent question…

There were so many ways Tony might’ve misinterpreted that, a day ago

-if he hadn’t decided on this accidentally enlightening fantasy, or if they both hadn’t taken a hit of Fantasia, who knows…

But, right now, it seemed so obvious what this was. He could just… _see, _that Steve wanted this – how _much_ Steve wanted this. And not just how much Steve wanted to touch him, or even how much Steve wanted Tony in general; Tony could feel how much Steve _wanted_ to let go, to believe that everything was alright now, that he _could_ have this…

That he didn’t have to stay in control, right now.

“Tony are you- is this-” He stammered, his fingers curling into the fabric of Tony’s shirt, somewhere between nervous and desperate. And Tony smiled.

…He _did_ quite like the idea of being in control, right now.

Rightly or wrongly, he’d felt so helpless in this thing, for so long… waiting for Steve to set the tone before he could decide what he wanted, thinking he couldn’t act until Steve did, that he couldn’t speak because Steve hadn’t… And, okay, that all sounded so silly now… But still, the idea of just being able to run with this feeling was intoxicating.

And the idea of being able to do this for Steve, to give Steve what he wanted, to _feel_ Steve let go like that…

…And all the ideas he suddenly had of _what_ he could do for Steve if-

No, not if.

…He _could_.

He kissed Steve again, warm and slow and deep, caressing his arms possessively across Steve’s back. A low, tingling thrill ran though his skin as he felt Steve relax into it – at the way Steve couldn’t decide where to put his hands…

Tony pressed his body against Steve’s, barely breaking the kiss as he pushed Steve onto his back and crawled on top of him, Steve’s hips pinned between his knees. And then he pressed himself up on his arms, so that he could look down on Steve.

“I love you. And I want you” Tony whispered-

-And, oh, the way the blood rushed up Steve’s neck, the way his eyes flashed, how full and perfect his lips were right now…

“And I have loved you, and wanted you, for years” Tony carried on, surprised by how easily his words came, over the intensity of this growing excitement. “And I want you now, I know that, and I know that this is okay – if this is what you want.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he nodded, small but determined. And, God, Tony nearly kissed him again then, just for that –

But he knew this was the moment he had to make sure.

That, if he wanted to help Steve let go, if he was going to take control of this thing for him, if he was going to make all the choices for the rest of the night, then he had to be very sure that Steve had made this one.

“You’re certain? Because you know it doesn’t have to be now. You know I will always want you, that-”

“No, I’m sure” Steve cut in, his voice low and breathy and pleading “I want you. Now. I’m sure, please-”

Tony kissed him more desperately then; he couldn’t think what else to do with that sudden spike of need. And Steve moaned softly, and opened his mouth, and arched up against him –

His fingers still flexing hesitantly against Tony’s skin.

And Tony smiled into the kiss, a contentment of confidence running through him – because he understood.

“You liked the chains.” He whispered – not a question. And God, he actually saw the way Steve’s eyes darkened, he saw the way his breath shocked still in his chest. The way he swallowed softly before he answered, so quietly that Tony barely heard him,

“Yes.”

So, Tony slid both of his hands under Steve’s shirt, running the flats of his palms along Steve’s sides – letting himself feel every inch of Steve’s skin, not flinching away from any of the things it made him think. That was… dizzyingly liberating. To just be allowed to feel, to not have to worry about hiding it, not thinking about denying himself or having to repair anything afterwards or having to hate himself for this.

He wanted Steve’s shirt off before he did this

He wanted to chain Steve down and just _look_ at him, as openly and as hungrily as he’d always wanted

He wanted to _be able_ to touch him

He stoked his hands over every inch of Steve’s _beautiful_ arms, letting his fingertips trace over every sweep and curve as he pushed Steve’s shirt up towards his wrists – because he’d always wanted to.

And he threw the shirt aside, and manoeuvred Steve’s wrists into the cuffs again, so easily – Steve lying his arms out and flattening his hands and doing everything he could to comply with this… willing…_eager_… And Tony was vaguely surprised that his fingers weren’t trembling when he locked the clasps shut…where all this thrumming excitement and physical elation could possibly be going, for his limbs to still be this steady-

And then he looked down at Steve – and he just _let_ himself be overwhelmed.

Ha. There you go – he was _staring_.

And his mouth was watering, and his skin was burning, and his cock was throbbing painfully now

And he didn’t bother concealing any of this – from _himself,_ or Steve. He didn’t try to hide the way he ran his eyes over Steve’s chest, the way he lingered over the dip of his waist or the shape of his shoulders, he didn’t _care_ whether he’d smiled, or swallowed, or licked his lips-

He wanted to touch-

So, he touched.

And _fuck_, Steve’s skin was perfect, his body was perfect – the _beautiful_ softness of him and the impossible solidness of him and the thrill of the conflict between the two. Tony ran his palms over the smooth expanses of Steve’s chest, he pressed his fingertips into the dense flesh of his shoulders and back, he caressed his hands over Steve’s stomach and hips. And Steve writhed against him, and arched up into him, his heavy panting breaking down into sighs and whimpers and whispered _please_’s-

And when Tony kissed him again, Steve didn’t just melt into it – he kissed Tony back, desperately, _shamelessly_, like he’d been liberated by the restraints. And Tony kissed him back just as hungrily, one hand curled under his head, the other still caressing Steve’s arm… down over his ribs… over the curve of his hips… Steve bucked up against him sharply, and a sudden, searing pleasure shot through Tony’s groin and up along his back, forcing him to break away to gasp for air. And Steve let his head fall back, baring his neck for Tony-

Oh, Tony wanted to kiss Steve’s neck

He had thought about kissing Steve’s neck _so_ many times-

And Steve wanted this-

And Tony _wanted_ Steve to want this, he wanted to do what Steve wanted

And Steve wanted him to do whatever he wanted…

It all… fit.

…It had always fit.

When Tony tugged at Steve’s hair, and trailed deep, slow kisses all the way down his throat

The way Steve threw his head further back and still tried to arch into it

The sound of him dragging in gulps of air and clawing mindlessly at his restraints

Tony peppered his collarbone and shoulders with the same hot, soft kisses, his hands sliding over Steve’s body until they found their way to his waist. Tony held him there, his thumbs teasing over the top of Steve’s waistband, as he moved to kiss his way down the centre of Steve’s chest. He heard Steve’s breathing get higher and faster as he moved down Steve’s stomach, until it broke into a desperate _please Tony-_

Tony dug his fingers into Steve’s hips, his whole body tensing at the shock of hearing Steve say his name like that.

_One day, I will tie you down like this and tease you until you beg_

_ I’ll help you find these words, and make you free to say them, and you’ll like begging,_

_ And shouting, and swearing, when you know how_

_ And I’ll like hearing you say my name like that, over and over again-_

But not tonight.

Steve had done enough, tonight.

_I won’t make you beg, tonight_

_I won’t make you find the words all by yourself,_

_You can have whatever you want now, _

_I just want to give you whatever you want-_

Tony unfastened Steve’s jeans, pressing kisses to each inch of newly exposed skin as he tugged them down over his hips, Steve arcing his back to let him, kicking his own legs free of them just as soon as he could. And Tony could _feel_ that cloud of animal lust growing denser, the connection between his head and his body becoming shorter and more impulsive. He parted Steve’s legs, dropping to kiss and bite the inside of his thighs, his hand running roughly over the outline of Steve’s cock, now pressed hard and wet to the fabric of his underwear

“_fuck_, Tony, Jesus, please-” Steve whispered, rocking his hips up against Tony’s hand. And, God, Tony _wanted-_

He sat up for just long enough to strip Steve out of his boxer shorts, his actions more focused and determined now. And Tony would’ve liked to have spent longer just _looking_ at him-

But he _wanted_-

So, he dropped he head, and slid Steve’s cock into his mouth.

_Oh,_ the sound he made-

Tony took the length of him slowly, caressing his hips, wanting to make Steve moan like that again, wanting to _feel_ him-

“Oh, Tony, _Jesus_ Tony, oh, God… So good, so good” Steve’s babbling got louder and more mindless as Tony drew back to suck the head of his cock, and then sank down on him again, and again, and again-

_God he is glorious-_

Even the noises he made,

That beautiful voice, low and raw and urgent

The taste and shape and feel of his cock, hard against Tony’s tongue

His legs, tense and almost trembling, spread wide under Tony’s hands-

“Oh God, Tony, I’m- I can’t, I-” Steve pleaded, canting his hips to meet Tony’s mouth, pulling at the chains in time with his increasingly sharp movements-

Tony wanted to feel him come.

Tony wanted to _make_ him come.

He was indulging himself as much as Steve now, shifting so that he could take Steve deeper, wanting to feel Steve’s cock slide into his throat

“_Fuck- _Fuck, Tony, oh, oh Fuck-”

And then Tony felt Steve’s whole body tense,

The involuntary way he jerked his cock even deeper

The wordless way he called out, somewhere between joy and desperation

As he came, hard, in Tony’s mouth.

Tony’s head swam – which, by now, was probably 90% excitement and 10% oxygen deprivation. But he stayed there, sucking and swallowing and pulling Steve in, wanting more of this, wanting _all_ of this.

And then he felt Steve collapse away from him, his body turning to water under Tony’s hands, and when Tony finally pulled back and gulped for air – God, he was _dizzy_, he was-

Too excited to _exist_

Completely unable to comprehend just how fucking hot that was

So turned on, and so in love, and _so_ happy

And then he let his head fall forward, and looked at Steve, and-

…Oh.

Tony had never seen anyone look as lovely as Steve did right then. That flawless body relaxed and open and just displayed for Tony against the crisp, white sheets, his skin shiny with sweat. Tony felt his body move forward of its own accord, following an instinct to get closer to him, to climb over the top of him, to see his face

…God he was _beautiful_. His lips still damp and parted, and almost pouting they were so full. His skin flushed across his cheekbones, his hair mussed up and matted against his forehead…

_I love you so much…_

Tony didn’t even know if he’d thought it or said it out loud. But then Steve opened his eyes, those impossibly long eyelashes fluttering for a second before he was able to focus on Tony’s face-

But _when_ he focused on Tony’s face-

Jesus, Tony felt that look at the pit of his stomach. That completely honest affection and awe, and desire, still – all entirely for him.

Tony felt his every muscle tense in preparation for something he hadn’t even processed yet; knowing he _had_ to have Steve now, before he’d even worked out what that meant-

He’d have done it anyway. He _had_ to now, he was just too far gone to this-

And then Steve caught his breath, his eyes dark and still locked on Tony’s when he whispered,

“Please fuck me Tony, _please_”

*

Steve hadn’t known he was going to say that.

To be fair, Steve didn’t know _what_ the fuck was going on by then – only that everything felt _so_ good.

_Everything_.

He could still feel the aftershocks of that climax shuddering though him, his whole body limp and loose and surrendered to it

Jesus, had it literally been seven years since he last relaxed his shoulders?

He suddenly felt all the release of letting that tension go –

All the new sensations, the places this feeling could get to now that everything was open to it

The idea of what Tony had just done to him –

To him? For him?

_ …With_ him.

And, God, Tony _loved_ him. Tony forgave him, Tony wanted him-

Everything was wonderful. He just knew it, he felt it, an overwhelming, _physical_ experience of total joy-

And then he felt Tony looking at him.

It felt like being _held_…

And when Steve looked up at him, he was just…_floored_, by how gorgeous he was-

How _hot_ he was-

And there was this sudden, giddy rush as he realised – he _could_. He really could, _anything_, there was literally nothing he had to worry about or ‘keep in mind’ right now. He could just be spaced out and drug fucked and feel _good_, he could _just_ be happy

He’d not _just_ been happy in at least seven years

He’d been happy at times, sure, but always in spite of something else

Always as a compromise, always ‘happy enough’ 

Happy, considering…

But he didn’t have to consider _anything_, he could just _want_, he could just say

_“Please fuck me Tony, please”_

And – God, yes, he _did_ want that-

And then Tony’s lips were pressed against Steve’s again,

_his beautiful, talented mouth-_

the slightest taste of himself there on the very edge of Tony’s tongue-

Steve’s cock twitched at that, _already_ trying to jump to attention again-

And then he felt his arms go limp, and belatedly recognised the sound of Tony unclasping the cuffs.

_Oh, that’s a shame, I liked the chains_

_ Oh, I don’t care, I just want-_

And then he felt Tony’s hands on his shoulders, bidding him, _up – _so, of course, Steve began to sit himself up… or tried to-

And then Tony’s hand was on his hip-

And curled around his shoulder

Rolling Steve’s hip towards him

Pushing his shoulder back-

Okay, Steve wasn’t quite sure _how _that had happened, but he was suddenly on his stomach, his breath momentarily knocked from his chest as it hit the mattress.

He didn’t even go to push himself up

Even a battle response that deeply engrained had faded away now

And then he felt Tony’s hands around his wrist again, firm and caring and strong, and of course Steve let him move his arms-

Clasping his wrist back into the cuffs.

…Okay, he _really_ liked this – he might even like this better-

And then Tony’s whole body was pressed to Steve’s back, the heat of his lips at the curve of Steve’s neck, and then the hint of his teeth…

Steve felt his cock twitch again, some of the tension returning to his legs as his floaty, blissed out thoughts came back into some sort of focus

_Oh God, Tony is going to fuck me-_

Tony sucked a deep, bruising kiss to Steve’s shoulder,

_Oh, I hope that leaves a mark-_

his hands pressed firmer into the bend of Steve’s waist, _almost_ stinging.

And then Tony began kissing his way down Steve’s back, moving more quickly than he had before, his kisses sharper and more desperate.

Steve might’ve felt Tony reach for the caddy, or heard him snatch something from the top of it – he didn’t really know, and he didn’t _care_. He didn’t _have_ to pay attention to every tiny detail of his surroundings, for once. For the first time in ten years, Steve wasn’t listening out for anything-

All of his attention was focused on Tony’s lips, on the small of his back now, Tony’s hands stroking over his ass, spreading him open. Steve felt himself moan, parting his legs without thinking, arcing his back-

He felt Tony’s thumb press roughly over his hole, sending a shock of pleasure through his hips and down his legs and the entire length of his spine. His cock throbbed hard again against his stomach as Tony teased him open, his mouth moving over the curve of his ass, and then his _tongue-_

“Oh _God, _Tony, please yes, ple-_ah, oh God_” Steve pleaded, half muffled by the pillow he was screaming into, as Tony pushed the tip of his tongue past Steve’s rim, his fingertips pressed hard into the sensitive flesh above his hipbones now, adding sharp little sparks of pleasure to the low, rolling heat of his mouth. Steve whined, and begged mindlessly, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he writhed helplessly in Tony’s hands.

And then Tony sat up, leaving a sudden, cold _absence, _like a burn – and Steve couldn’t catch his breath in time to protest, before he felt Tony’s fingertips, now wet with lube, pressing at his rim. Steve groaned low in his chest, lifting his ass, rocking back to meet Tony’s hand. Tony pushed two fingers all the way into him, slow and firm, pressing and then twisting inside him as he pulled away just as slowly.

“Oh, God Tony, fuck me, please fuck me, please” Steve whispered, not even talking to Tony, too far gone to know he was doing it. And Tony just carried on working him open, pushing his fingers into him again, and again, and Steve didn’t know whether to grind down against the mattress or push further back into this delicious friction, this perfect pleasure thrumming inside him-

And then he felt Tony sweep his fingers over his prostate, and his whole body jerked involuntarily, a truly whorish moan just falling out of his mouth.

“Please again please more please Tony please-”

And then Tony leaned over him, his fingers still moving inside him as he pressed his lips close to his ear, and whispered,

“You ready sweetheart? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, yes-” Steve panted – cutting himself off with a high-pitched whine as Tony took his hand away.

And for a few seconds, time just stopped. Steve faintly heard the rustle of fabric as Tony loosened his clothes, he felt the dip of the mattress as Tony knelt between his legs. Steve did his best to push himself up, as much as he could with his arms pinned out like this, his heart pounding against his ribs and his mouth suddenly dry-

And then he felt Tony push inside him.

There was a dull, searing pressure, that crawled all the way up his body as Tony slowly filled him up. Steve tried to catch his breath, his hands wrapped so tight around the chains that his knuckles were white, his shoulders trembling as he felt Tony’s thighs push up against the back of his legs-

And then Tony’s voice, rich and warm and… _safe_,

“It’s okay baby, just _breathe_”

And Steve managed a shuddering breath, a little slower, _just_ because Tony had told him to-

And he felt that pressure ease, and soften into a deep, aching _pleasure_ – a teasing rush of something more, as his body settled around Tony-

_Oh, this is good-_

“That’s it sweetheart, like that, that’s good” Tony purred, completely still except for the firm caress of his fingertips on Steve’s hips.

And Tony said it was good

And Steve wanted to be good for Tony

He took another deep breath, relaxing his body as he exhaled,

An easy _roll_ of pleasure this time, building to a more intense spike of-

Need. The compulsion left in the shadow of this feeling – the need for more-

He heard Tony hum a warm smile, rocking into Steve very gently, sending a ripple of friction through the very core of him.

“Oh, God, Tony…” Steve gasped, trying to rock back against him now.

“Yeah baby?” Tony grinned, warmly amused and affectionate and so in control – not waiting for an answer before he pulled back and pushed deep into Steve again-

And _fuck_ the pleasure of that-

But Steve had barely processed it before Tony thrust into him again, slow and _hard_, another wave of it washing over him, taking his breath away all over again-

Didn’t seem to matter anymore

Now, this pleasure was all there was – the intensity of it, the build of it, the desperate need for more of it even as it was crashing over him-

“Oh Christ Steve, you feel so good, you are so good-” Tony panted, his voice hoarse and raw, thrusting into Steve more sharply and sending a shock right through to the tip of his cock.

“Oh God Tony, I love you, I- Oh, oh fuck-”

“I love you, I will never leave you, it’s always been you, it’s only you, always-”

“Tony, I – _oh fuck-”_ Steve broke out into a high pitched cry as Tony’s cock hit that sweet spot deep inside him, a sharp sensation cracking through him, his shoulders going limp under the force of it. “Oh, God, again, there, please-_ah-”_

And Tony began fucking him hard and fast, his thrusts more sharp and shallow – hitting that spot every time, sending shock after shock through him until it was all just one continuous rolling sensation. Steve’s mind whited out completely, his shouts dissolving into choked off moans as his entire body surrendered to the pleasure running through it. His cock pulsed angrily against his stomach, the stinging, burning need of it just adding to this onslaught of sensations.

Steve _just_ felt good. He wasn’t thinking anything at all, he was just _feeling_, and it was all so good.

He didn’t remember any of the bad things that would usually be there, they just _weren’t_ there, they didn’t exist – he was too far gone to appreciate the absence of them, to process that this was the first time in ten years that he hadn’t felt a low level of anxiety or anger or guilt-

But he _felt_ the absence of all of them.

A dizzying, liberating emptiness that he was free to stretch into now –

He _could_ just feel good

He wasn’t curling away from it or trying to plan for it or even feeling bad about it

He didn’t even know he wasn’t-

He just whimpered into the sheets, chained down and spread open and just letting Tony fuck him. That pleasure in him building faster now, like it pushing up at his skin, concentrating deep in his muscles as Tony fucked more and more of it into him – until he felt like he was physically, bodily full of this sensation, until it pushed right up at the very limits of it, the very edge of so-good-it-almost-hurt

Which was just so good-

Steve let go of a visceral scream as the next few waves of this crashed over him – they had sharp edges now, a burning need left in the echo of every thrust,

Oh, God, he _wanted-_

a sudden panic of excitement, as the need for release overtook the gratification in the moment

Oh, he wanted-

He _needed-_

And then something inside him just _let go_. His orgasm just crashed through him, like a wall of water breaking through a dam, every shred of resistance within him just washed aside by the force of it. That intense, pulsing pleasure deep inside him, drawing everything down through his body, concentrating everything into this feeling surging through his hips, the pit of his stomach, the tip of his cock. He could feel himself moaning, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the blood in his ears, he could barely see through the cloud of stars on his vision-

And Tony thrust into him again, and those stars fizzed brighter again, like a second burst of fireworks,

That pleasure of release tightening and relaxing as Tony moved inside him

Still going

Still coming, still-

Until he’d just let everything go, a more complete feeling of release and relief and _satisfaction_ just sinking down over him like a blanket-

And then he felt Tony’s hips stutter against him.

A low, _primal _sounding moan, deep in his chest, as he buried himself into Steve-

_Oh, he’s going to come inside me, he’s-_

Nope, brain not quite up to actual words yet. That fragment of a coherent thought just dissolved into the general idea, the _feeling_, of what this meant…

And Steve just sort of… dissolved with it, for a moment. He didn’t know whether he’d actually passed out, or just been out of it. But there were a few minutes – he would never know how many – where Steve just floated on his feeling, his vision blotted by purple clouds now, his head just _swimming_…

He might’ve vaguely been aware of Tony pulling away

He might’ve felt the cool sweep of a damp cloth over the back of his legs…

…or maybe he imagined that, or assumed it later…

He had _no_ recollection what-so-ever of Tony unfastening the cuffs.

His first conscious memory was of Tony’s hand on his shoulder, and then the feeling of rolling _heavily_ onto his back-

And then looking up at Tony Stark.

“Oh God I love you” just fell out of his mouth – and he liked that. He liked saying it. He’d completely forgotten _why_ it was such a relief and a thrill and a joy to say those words out loud… but it still was.

And he’d forgotten all about not knowing what to do with his hands. He’d forgotten all the questions that had once made him hesitate, all the outcomes he’d ever worried about avoiding.

He just reached up, and touched the side of Tony’ _beautiful_ face, and pulled him in, and kissed him.

*

When Steve kissed him then, it was like… oxygen to a drowning man. It was a warm blanket around the shoulders of someone who’d been lost in the snow. It was like that first mouthful of cool water after days of wandering in the desert.

It was the way Steve reached up to touch him. The warm, easy way he wrapped his arms around him as he pressed his lips to Tony’s – the unhurried, carless way he kissed him, his lips soft and heavy and almost clumsy. It just felt so…_human_, so genuine, so… real.

And Tony realised that, more than anything he’d wanted from Steve – and, okay, there were a lot of things he’d wanted from Steve, over the years… But more than anything, he’d just wanted this. A moment that wasn’t ‘about’ anything, that wasn’t compromised by, or effected by, or intended to rectify, any of their issues. A moment that he didn’t have to make the most of, or put into context, or try not to get carried away with. A moment when Steve would just hold him, and kiss him, because Tony was his and because he wanted to and because they _could_-

A moment when he could just kiss Steve, and run his hands through Steve’s hair, and whisper that he loved him… and for that to just be good…

For it to be _real_.

And for… however long, he didn’t know, Tony got to just lie there in Steve’s arms, sharing those lazy, messy kisses and smiling at him stupidly and carelessly touching his skin…

He was vaguely aware of the fact that _he_ was still dressed, that he’d much rather be lying here with every inch of his skin pressed to Steve… but, even then, Tony might’ve had an idea that they weren’t going to be staying. God knows where it would’ve come from, at that stage – maybe he _did_ just know Steve better than he thought he did.

But he didn’t give moving much thought just yet, because he was simply too happy where he was. He just let his head rest on Steve’s shoulder, and pressed gentle kisses to his chest, and traced mindless patterns over his skin… And Steve sighed, and ran strands of Tony’s hair over his fingers, and caressed his hand over Tony’s back-

_He likes this_.

And, oh, that had always been the ultimate fantasy. The one he wanted every part of, the thing he thought could only ever be a dream. He’d never wanted to _just_ fuck Steve – if that was all it was, if he’d even been able to separate that part of it out, then he probably would’ve just run with it the other night in the lounge, or gone straight to this when Steve got to this room. But it had never been that. He would never have wanted this if Steve didn’t… but it was more than that. He’d only ever wanted this _because_ he loved Steve. He’d only ever really wanted to do this one way – the way where he could make Steve feel just as good and just as happy.

And he’d never dared to _hope_…

…But it _was_.

Tony actually giggled. He just didn’t know what else to do with all this joy. And Steve glanced down at him, his eyes still soft and heavy, that wry, questioning look that Tony had seen on his face so many times…

All those little expressions that were so uniquely _Steve_…

Steve, who was sweet, and compassionate – but still a little bit sarcastic

Hopeful and earnest – but smart, and sharp as fuck-

And sassy, sometimes.

And-

“I love you” Tony exhaled. And, oh, Steve _smiled_. And kissed him again, slow, and soft, and warm…

_Oh, this is good…_

And then Tony saw Steve’s eye catch on something on the other side of the room, a little smile of a different kind flickering on his lips. Faintly amused, or good humoured, or something.

God, it was just _so_ much easier to read his face now…

“You wanna go somewhere else?” Tony just… guessed. Except, as he was saying it, he realised it wasn’t exactly a guess. That he could tell that Steve had just remembered this place was somewhat silly. Not even offensive or distasteful – just too commercial and too fake and too on the nose. That he’d sort of known that’s what Steve would think about this place… because he knew _Steve_, as it turned out.

And Steve just smiled, and thought about it.

And Tony could tell that Steve was _only_ thinking about whether he wanted to. Weighing up the idea of another setting, against the effort of actually moving – that was all.

Not thinking about whether he _should_.

Not wondering what Tony would think of his answer.

Not trying to catalogue all the unknowns and risks of either option.

And _that_ was good…

“Yeah, okay.” Steve smiled, eventually. “Why not?”

*

Steve didn’t bother trying to find his jeans. Wherever Tony had thrown them, they weren’t with the rest of his clothes-

And screw it, close enough.

He didn’t care.

And, as he took Tony’s hand and led them both from this room, him half dressed and Tony still giggling and both of them just a little unsteady on their feet, Steve began to appreciate what it was not to care.

As that heady afterglow began to wear off, and Steve’s senses started to come back to him, he became more aware of the giddy elation he’d simply been floating on for however long. What had been a passive thing started to feel more active, a physical thrill of freedom, an awareness of the moment as a wonderful, exciting thing.

God, he just felt so…new, and clean, and…_hopeful_, and-

Like his own body _fit_ better, like his limbs moved more freely,

That buzzing pleasure that was actually just the absence of pain, just the relief of all the tension and longing that _wasn’t_ there

The doubts and questions and worries that just weren’t there.

And, now that he was ever-so-slightly closer to his senses, he _could_ remember what they were. He remembered everything he’d ever worried about, all the toxic thoughts that had tortured him, all the insecurities he’d nursed and fears he’d run from – and he fucking _loved _it. He loved being able to run through that list and tick every one of them off, the happy shiver that ran through him with everything he never had to be scared of again. Now he could consciously appreciate _why_ all the thoughts in his head were so wonderful.

There _weren’t_ any secrets between them now. Not even the fact that Steve loved him. Steve didn’t have to watch what he was saying, or think how to avoid certain topics before they came up, or try to think what he was going to do with his face-

He didn’t have to _pretend _to be anything. This wasn’t all on the condition that he be stoic enough and certain enough and fucking _Captain America_ enough to be worthy of it.

He didn’t _have_ to be sure of anything-

_Tony loved him_.

There wasn’t _even_ that aching longing, watching Tony walk, or the frustration of only being able to steal glances, or the sadness of what he could never have-

He _could_-

Oh, God, he could _just_ kiss him. Right now. He could-

So he just stopped, and tugged Tony close to him again, and Tony let go of a surprised little laugh as Steve pressed him up against the nearest wall and kissed him hard. And Tony smiled against his lips, and threw his arms around him, affectionate and playful. Warm, and natural, and… his.

Steve didn’t hesitate now. There wasn’t any uncertainty anymore – he’d _already_ let go. And now that he _had_, now that he could just move and think and be-

He pulled Tony in by the hips, and Tony melted into him, humming happily. And this wasn’t the emotional climax of earlier, this wasn’t an earth shattering, life-changing kiss in the way the first one had been-

But it was almost as important – _because _it was so unimportant.

For the fact that Steve had just thoughtlessly pulled Tony in to kiss him, because he wanted to. The fact that it was unpolished and undramatic and… _fun_. The fact that he had Tony pressed up against a wall in exactly the same way as any other couple in this place, the way thousands of couples got to share intimate, exciting, romantic moments every single day –

And Steve thought he never would.

He’d never imagined he would be one of those people who could just pull the person they loved aside and kiss them, just because they wanted to.

For it not to mean the end of a bitter feud, or the resolution of a deep personal issue, or the moment a dream came true… it almost meant as much, for this to mean nothing more than this.

And then he felt Tony’s hands sliding down his back, until he was groping Steve’s ass – and Steve broke into a grin that forced him to break the kiss.

“You want to go back to our room?” Tony suggested, his fingers still pressing into Steve’s skin.

And, honestly – it was just too far away.

That was all the thought he gave that one.

“You want to just go to _a_ room?” He offered instead. And Tony’s eyes widened, and lit up, a lascivious little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth- “God you’re beautiful” Steve whispered, kissing him again before he could answer – a little messier, because now Tony was giggling. “And I _love_ it when you laugh like that” He breathed, as he dropped his head to kiss Tony’s neck instead. And Tony let his head fall back, one hand moving to grab the back of Steve’s head – the other slipping under Steve’s underwear, groping him harder. Steve let one of his hands slide down over Tony’s chest, until he could run it roughly over the outline of Tony’s cock. Tony’s whole body jerked, and he tugged sharply at Steve’s hair, and smiled, close to his ear.

“_A_ room, now, please”

And Steve just grinned, and grabbed Tony’s hand, and turned into the nearest room to them-

And he wasn’t expecting the floor to _give_ under him like that. It confused his brain right in the middle of taking the next step, so it just stopped taking it – and then Steve found himself falling onto his knees with a soft bump.

Behind him he heard a delighted laugh, and a playful ‘_yes!’_, and a smile broke out as he remembered-

“Don’t worry, everyone does that when they walk into one of these” Tony sang, as he strolled past him. “I mean, _I _didn’t…” And grinned, and began bouncing on the floor to demonstrate his prowess-

And, Jesus, Steve loved him _so_ much, he wanted to just… _consume _him-

And, God, Steve had always wanted _this_-

He’d always wanted to be Tony’s friend.

He’d always wanted to be included in Tony’s jokes, to be able to laugh _with_ him, to just be comfortable and happy and able to join in like this-

To just have fun with him like this.

“Come here” He laughed, grabbing Tony’s hand and tugging him onto his knees in front of him. Tony yelped, and then grinned, and then leant in to kiss him again, slow, and deep, and…_happy_. And when he eventually had to break for air, Steve cupped the side of his face, and just asked, “Is this what it’s going to be like? After this? When we get home?”

And, Jesus Christ, he _never_ would’ve asked that, before.

He’d have been too afraid of Tony’s answer

He’d have been too scared of what might happen if he put it out there, the unintended consequences it would cause.

He would’ve had to phrase it so that Tony didn’t think Steve was in love with him, so that no one thought he was unsure or unfit to lead, so that he could still be ‘Captain America’ the next day.

He’d have guessed, and worried, and planned, and counter planned, and-

God, it was nice just to _ask_.

And it was _beyond_ nice, the way Tony beamed at that, the dreamy look that crossed his face when he answered.

“I want it to be. This is all I’ve ever wanted – well, I mean, there will probably be less alien sex drugs, and less public sex, cos y’know, we both have jobs...” He mused, his tone entirely serious – and Steve just laughed.

God, he’d spent years trying not to smile when Tony said something funny… for… some stupid-ass reason…

“But, yeah, I want to be your boyfriend. I want to wake up next to you every morning, and come home to you every day, and just be able to kiss you, and tell you I love you, and have fun with you like this. And if that’s what you want-”

“It’s _all_ I want. All I ever wanted” Steve smiled, a warm feeling pooling in his stomach as he saw the happiness light up Tony’s face.

“And, I, just… really, really wish I’d said some of this earlier” Tony sighed, giving his head a little shake at his own silliness – still smiling.

“Yeah, me too” Steve breathed… and a thought occurred to him – so, he just said that, too.

“What do you think would’ve happened, if I’d said that in the bunker?” He asked, “If instead of just standing there like a cardboard standee of an idiot-” And he felt a little swell of pride, when Tony snorted a laugh at that “if I had just said, I’m sorry Tony, and I love you…”

“I think… well, it would’ve been a different ending, certainly…” Tony mused –

And then burst out into a sudden, full throated laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just-” Tony giggled, trying to reel it in enough to explain. “I just thought of that from Zemo’s point of view.” And he put on what was actually a pretty good Sokovian accent when he added “I have studied and trained all my life, and spent years putting together this complicated plan and – now you’re making out-” The accent broke down as Tony dissolved into giggles again, and this time Steve broke down with him, letting Tony rest his head against his shoulders as he laughed

“Oh, I so wish I’d done that now!” Steve moaned – which only made Tony laugh harder.

And Tony was just _so_ pretty when he laughed.

So, Steve tilted his head up and kissed him again, feeling Tony’s smile melt against his lips.

And, somewhere it occurred to him – he wasn’t consumed by all the things he wished he’d done differently, anymore. Which wasn’t to say there weren’t certain choices he’d make differently, or individual things he wished he could take back… But his past didn’t haunt him, the way it had before. The spectre of the life he didn’t lead didn’t unsettle him anymore.

Because, for the first time in God only knows how long… he was perfectly happy where he was, right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for anyone concerned about the consent element of this: Tony does actively ask for vocal consent before anything becomes sexual, and Steve unambiguously asks Tony to fuck him, and both parties are clearly enthusiastic about things throughout - there is no suggestion of force being any part of the fantasy for either of them. However, the fact that they are both on drugs is a fairly major theme of all of this, and its shown to be actively effecting their perceptions and their reactions and their level of inhibition. There is also a moment where it's stated that Tony is so far under the influence of those drugs that he would've *had* to keep going - although Steve asks him to before he does anything, so that's never put to the test, as it were.  
In terms of the Sub/Dom themes explored - Tony chains Steve down before any of this happens, and it's sort of discussed that Tony likes the idea of being in control of the situation, and Steve likes the freedom from responsibility, and the not having to worry that he's doing it wrong, etc. There is no element of Steve wanting to be hurt or punished, or Tony wanting to do that to him. There is no 'lack of consent' role play, no suggestion that Tony's control in this situation is supposed to be absolute. Tony does ask permission before he chains Steve up. They don't discuss a safe word, but as there is no role play element, I hope it reads as pretty clear that Steve would just ask him to stop.  
If you'd like any more detail before you read this, please feel free to message me.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve woke up, and immediately knew that something had happened.

Before he’d even opened his eyes, there was that awareness… and, for a second or two, it was _just_ that.

_Something_ had happened.

He didn’t even know whether it was really good, or really bad – but he was sure it was really something. He could feel that ominous emptiness inside him; just waiting to see what flood of emotions would rush to fill it when he remembered-

And he opened his eyes.

…And there was Tony.

Lying on his side a few inches from Steve, sleeping soundly, his face completely relaxed and perfectly still-

…_perfect._

And then of course Steve remembered how Tony had ended up sleeping in his bed – he remembered _everything_…

And…

Nope. He _still_ didn’t know if that was really good or really bad.

…It felt like it should probably be really bad. In terms of his mental habits, and his hardwired responses…Well, he could immediately think what his panic _should_ have been, at least.

He’d told Tony that he was in love with him, and that had _always_ been a firm, you-don’t-even-have-to-think-about-it _no_.

He’d told Tony how sorry he was – and that had been a simply terrifying prospect, _impossible_, just a day earlier.

He’d let Tony – _wanted_ Tony to – strip him naked and chain him to a bed. And, yeah, he’d been taught to feel guilty about all of _that_ since Sunday School in the 1920s.

He knew it didn’t really fit… Captain America, chained down and begging Tony to fuck him…

But…he… didn’t feel guilty?

A little, maybe? Or… Unsure, or something…

Or maybe just like he _should_ feel guilty…

But… mostly, he just felt _better_. In ways he was only just waking up enough to recognise. He felt physically better, still thrumming with the joy of relief, the absence of tension and pain that he’d taken for granted. His mind felt quieter and calmer, even with all the images and ideas and questions that were starting to run though it… like a grating background noise had been cut.

And, looking at Tony like this…His lovely lips, his hair all soft...

Maybe this was _really _good-

Okay, that was a _slightly_ more unsettling thought.

It was strange, sure, but for whatever reason, Steve wasn’t as overwhelmed by _what had happened_ as he probably should be…But thinking about what was going to happen next, what all those ‘things that had happened’ might mean now…

That meant thinking about what he hoped was going to happen

It meant putting his heart out there enough to hope in the first place

It meant going through all the issues that had been there before, and asking himself if they really had worked through them now

It meant having to wonder if Tony really meant all the things he’d said. If Tony really_ did_ love him – if he really _had_ forgiven him, or whether it was all the drugs…

It meant Steve started thinking beyond the fact that he _had_ apologised, and started going through the things he had apologised _for_

The things Tony had actually said…

Okay. He felt a bit more guilty now.

And suddenly he felt far too awake to lie still here like this. Far too aware to lie next to Tony for however long it took him to wake up

_Naked and warm and beautiful-_

Yeah, he really didn’t want to add an erection into this confusion.

So, as smoothly as he could, Steve rolled out of the bed and snatched his clothes up from the floor. He crept into the living room before he got dressed; doing everything to avoid waking Tony just yet. He just wanted a minute alone to think first…

Okay. Deep breath. Lay everything out and put it all into boxes. Start from the top.

Well, Steve knew where he _wanted _to start. Immediately, his head was full of bright, high-definition memories.

Tony’s palms pressed hard against his thighs, spreading him open as he sucked him off

Tony laughing joyously as Steve pushed him down on the floor of a public room, letting Steve undress him, parting his legs for him and arching his back

Tony grabbing fistfuls of his hair, whispering that he loved him over and over again, as Steve fucked him right there where anyone could’ve walked in and seen them-

_I wonder if anyone-_

Steve shook them all away. Thinking through these images weren’t the best use of his time. The most fun, yeah… But just _remembering_ didn’t really clarify anything; other than the fact that he’d really liked it. And that’s the bit he wasn’t confused about.

But _should_ he have liked it?

Should he have done it?

Should he have done _any_ of the things he did last night?

Were any of them immoral, or harmful…

And it unnerved him a little, to think that he hadn’t already gone through all this… Normally, he’d have tied himself in knots at every stage of…something like last night, he’d have brought Captain America’s character spec to mind without meaning to – he’d have talked himself out of it, most likely.

…but.

Well, obviously, he hoped Tony didn’t wake up and regret everything. That would be awful, for all sorts of reasons… And Steve didn’t much like to think of the position he’d be in, if that happened. What he could possibly do to ease Tony’s feelings about it all, under the circumstances…

But Steve wasn’t sure any of that made _his_ behaviour unacceptable.

Obviously, he never would have taken advantage of Tony’s inhibition if he hadn’t been on drugs himself. But… He _had_ been on the same drugs that Tony was… And, actually thinking about it like this, Steve wasn’t sure he had any more responsibility in that situation than Tony had. He wasn’t sure he’d taken advantage any more than he’d been taken advantage of – and he was quite sure he’d not been taken advantage of. He knew immediately that _Tony_ hadn’t done anything wrong, that he’d controlled himself as much as the drugs would let him, that he’d done his best to make sure Steve wanted it, that he probably wouldn’t have done it without Steve doing everything he could to push Tony toward that temptation…

So, if he was that fair to _himself_…

Well. There was a novel idea.

Judging himself by the same criteria he thought fair for other people… That… seemed like quite a sizeable revelation, now that he was thinking about it…

He’d have to file that away for consideration later, though. Right now he had to focus on Tony, and what had happened – that was the bit he’d wish he’d thought about, once Tony woke up…

And so he thought about what he would say, if Tony woke up and was horrified by what they’d done… What he could do, if Tony felt violated, if that came out as fear or tears, or anger... He didn’t think any of that was very likely, actually… it didn’t _feel_ very likely… But the consequences of saying something wrong under _those _circumstances were so grave that it felt important to prepare for it anyway.

And, as he was thinking about it, it slowly began to dawn on him…

…He really had given Tony a _terrible_ apology for everything, the first time around.

He realised it as he was trying to craft the right words for Tony this morning, if he woke up understandably upset about something that wasn’t really Steve’s fault. What he could say to ease Tony’s _feelings_, because, in this instance, it would only be Tony’s hurt feels that he felt bad about…

And these were basically the words he’d used to apologise for lying to Tony. The tone he’d used whenever he’d talked about the whole thing. And Steve really hadn’t _meant_ it that way… But he suddenly realised how it would’ve come across – how it would’ve made Tony feel. And now he understood exactly why Tony thought he wasn’t sorry… even why Tony thought he didn’t care about his feelings… Because Steve had done something personally hurtful, and then treated Tony like someone whose reaction he was simply trying to placate.

And, with that, he was thinking about all the things Tony had said to him last night.

_But me? I’m tearing the Avengers apart. Not by going on a secret mission. Not by stealing a Quinn Jet. Not by harbouring a fugitive – by signing the Accords._

_ _

_You lectured me about keeping secrets and not being a team player – _and literally, at that very moment, _you were in the middle of a two year, off the books mission to apprehend the man that Hydra used to kill my parents_!

_And in all this time, you’ve told me once that you’re sorry. Not even that you were sorry – that you were sorry my feelings were hurt. You were sorry I didn’t agree with you. That one line, in a whole letter, and never another word since._

…Yeah, Steve felt pretty guilty now. He actually stopped pacing and sank into the couch under the weight of it, as he listed all the arguments Tony had made and all the pain Steve had caused him and all the things he hadn’t thought of at the time. It was all pretty awful…

…but.

It wasn’t awful in the way it usually was, when he tried to do this. It wasn’t a chaos of words and a panic of conflicting ideologies and a general, bodily anxiety that it was _all just such a mess…_ His head wasn’t full of grand questions, _what would Captain American do? What sort of a man am I? What can I say to the people who believe in me? _It hadn’t raced ahead to nightmare scenarios of all his friends imprisoned and the world enslaved and the memory of The Commando’s ruined forever, all because he’d made _a_ mistake.

It was just him, listing the things he’d done wrong… _the mistakes he’d actually made_… and thinking about how he’d come to fuck it up so badly, and what he could do about it now.

And it _was_ painful. It was. But…

It was also… sort of… _nice_?

Maybe it was just that he’d always thought it’d be _so_ bad, maybe it was just that it wasn’t as awful as it usually was…

…But, no… There actually _was_ something nice about thinking it all through like this. Something… cleansing, or… liberating, or something…

…Which was another potential enlightenment he’d have to pencil in for another time.

The point was, even if this list of mistakes wasn’t quite the monster under the bed that it had been… It was still pretty bad. And Steve owed Tony a better apology for it-

_Although I have apologised_-

Oh yeah. So he had.

…Did that count?

Not that he had any problem saying it all again. Actually, the thought of sitting down with Tony and talking through all the things he did, and how sorry he was… was also strangely nice. At least considering how frightened he’d always been of the idea. And it really didn’t frighten him anymore – if Tony _did_ want to go through all that again, and make sure Steve meant everything he said last night…

And he _had_ meant everything he said last night. Okay, he might not have literally thrown himself on his knees and begged for forgiveness, under normal circumstances… but then he was _almost_ certain that Tony wouldn’t have chained him up and gagged him, ordinarily, so he figured there was a certain amount of situational leeway allowed here. But, if he _could’ve _been goaded into speaking honestly back on earth – by something other than a drug – then he was pretty sure he would have cried. That his reaction last night was only a slightly exaggerated version of his true feelings – that his phrasing might’ve been dramatic, but the things he’d said were all true…

And, God, he hoped that meant the same was true of Tony.

That, even though he was sure there were things they had to talk about while sober, and things they’d have to work on when they got home, maybe Tony had really meant it when he said-

And Steve sort of stuttered mid thought, as it suddenly occurred to him

…_Oh, but what about the things we haven’t talked about?_

Steve let go of a heavy sigh. Oh yeah, _that_ was why he’d found it so hard to say sorry to Tony – well, one of the reasons. The things he couldn’t say he was sorry for. The things _he_ might’ve been mad about. He’d known that he couldn’t talk to Tony about what happened without talking about any of that. That, if they did end up talking about those things, then Steve wouldn’t be able to lie about them, and it would make it sound like he wasn’t sorry, and they would only fight again… And, if Steve thought he’d been scared of that _before-_

He glanced longingly at the bedroom door. He thought back to Tony, sleeping peacefully in his bed, looking like a sketch from a gothic fairy tale. He remembered the two of them lying on the floor of a soft room… how he’d pulled one of the silk sheets down from the benches and wrapped Tony in it, and held him like that, close to his chest…

A little voice in his head whispered, _so close_.

If Tony woke up and said he _did_ mean it – that he really loved Steve, that he forgave him, that he wasn’t hurt or angry anymore…

Jesus, did he really _have_ to say anything else?

…No, but really, did he? Because he knew that it’d once felt so inevitable, so unavoidable, that these things would come up… But they _hadn’t_ come up, as it happened…

…_But they will._

Steve sighed again, more frustrated this time.

Alright, fine – _what_ would come up? What _did_ Steve still stand by, what _had_ he been angry over – what did he want Tony to do about any of that, anyway?

Okay – The Accords. That had always been first on the list. He couldn’t tell Tony he was sorry he… hadn’t…

A little bloom of hope, deep in his chest, as he realised – that _had_ come up. Tony wasn’t mad about The Accords. Their political difference of opinion didn’t underpin everything that had happened… or everything they’d built, last night… So, maybe Steve really _didn’t_ have to mention them-

Or, even better – maybe it really wouldn’t be the end of the world if and when he did. Thinking back to last night… Maybe they really could _discuss_ them now… chat about them, even…

Steve felt a little frisson of excitement run through him; he warned himself, in vain, not to get his hopes up…

_Okay – what else_?

And then it was like that little light inside him just died. Like cool water thrown over glowing embers, _just_ as they might’ve ignited into something more.

And all the other little gripes he might’ve had, all the arguments he might still think he was right about – all the things he knew he’d have overcome just as easily, or had already changed his mind about, or didn’t care about anymore – just fell by the wayside. He didn’t even get a chance to tick them off, because he’d remembered why none of that mattered.

Because they still hadn’t talked about Bucky.

And Steve still thought Tony had been wrong to blame Bucky, that he was wrong to exclude Bucky – Steve _had_ been angry at Tony, for what he did to Bucky. Even though he had felt so sorry for Tony, even though he knew Tony wasn’t in his right mind when he did it, even though he felt so much guilt for leading them there in the first place… There had still been nights – moments, really – when Steve thought about what would’ve happened if one of Tony’s shots had hit. When he’d wondered, a bit too bitterly, if Tony would’ve been sorry for it. If Tony would’ve accepted that he’d done something awful in a fit of rage.

Oh, but Steve didn’t need an apology for that, especially not instead of being able to crawl back into that bed with Tony – he’d _never_ been so angry over it that it would’ve countered this-

Did he really _have_ to mention-

But even as he was thinking it, he knew how ridiculous it was. That he couldn’t possibly hope for a life with Tony if he could _never_ mention Bucky. A life when he could never see Bucky again. He couldn’t choose between the two of them – and he certainly couldn’t choose Tony if it meant pretending that he thought Bucky had deserved to get shot in that bunker. It just wasn’t practically possible. It was _going_ to come up…

And that meant Steve’s whole life – all his hope and dreams, all his future happiness – now rested on Tony. It meant that everything Steve had ever wanted, everything being dangled so tantalisingly close, was only possible if Tony was sorry for attacking Bucky like that… or would at least acknowledge that it had been wrong… or even, that he didn’t expect Steve to pretend otherwise…

Steve could push that line back. He wanted to be with Tony so much, he could accept a compromise… But he couldn’t _make_ this right. If Tony woke up and told him that he was still mad at Bucky, that he’d assumed Steve’s apology included agreeing with him on that… Then there _would_ be nothing he could do.

And, just as he was processing the powerlessness of that, the sadness and injustice of it, that bitter little voice whispered to him again-

_Well, now you know how Tony felt, for two years._

*

Actually, Tony was already awake.

He’d stirred just as Steve left the room – feeling like he’d been woken by the emptiness of the bed, as opposed to any noise Steve had made.

And, like Steve, his first instinct had been to think back over the night before – and then to worry that he’d done something wrong.

And, unlike Steve, Tony wasn’t able to shake the feeling that the whole thing _had_ been more his responsibility. That he’d been the one to engage in a fantasy, rather than just leaving. That _he’d_ chained Steve to a bed, that he’d been the one to say he wanted it, and that it was all okay…

_He did tell me he loved me first, though, and that he wanted me…I really don’t think I’d have even gone down that road, otherwise…_

_And I did ask him if he wanted to, more than once – and he did keep saying he wanted it, he asked-_

Oh… those thoughts were somewhat overwhelming…

The memory of Steve, naked and tied down and blissed out, looking up at him with pleading eyes and whispering, _please fuck me Tony, please._

Thinking back to the soft room, the almost playful way Steve had undressed him, smiling kisses against his neck and arms and stroking his hands over him in a possessive caress…

…_I asked then too_, a little voice piped up, meekly, like it knew the rest of the brain was going to be hella mad at it for interrupting. But it had a point – Tony had at least _tried_ to make sure Steve was still okay with things, in the soft room. When Steve had stripped him completely, and _finally_ wrapped his hand around Tony’s cock…Tony had managed to breathlessly remind him that _anyone could walk in right now, you know_… And Steve had just smiled, and stoked the length of him, slow and firm, and whispered back, _I don’t care – do you care?_ And Tony’s hips had jerked at that, and he’d shaken his head, and answered _no_… And then started whispering _yes…yes…_

…And now he had a hard on. Which was not ideal.

Oh, he really hoped that Steve was just okay with all of this. That he’d actually wanted to do it, that he really _had_ enjoyed it…

…That he wanted to do it again, maybe?

And, Jesus Christ, he could hardly bring himself to ask the question, it was going to hurt so much to hope that hard…

…But did Steve _really_ love him?

…Was he _really_ sorry?

And, as Tony thought about it, as he tried to catalogue all the things that had been _said_ last night… There was an unsettling – but not entirely unpleasant – revelation…

Whatever the answer to either of those questions – Tony already knew that the Steve he’d been mad at didn’t really exist.

Even if Tony walked out that door and Steve told him, _I’m so sorry, I don’t know what those drugs did to me – but the fact is I’m not in love with you, I’ve never thought about you like that before, and I didn’t actually mean any of the apologies I made. I’ve never thought any of those things before in my life. _Well. Tony would be devastated, and he wasn’t pretending otherwise. But, even then, last night would still have meant something.

Because, last night, Tony had finally seen that he _had_ held Steve to a different standard to everyone else in his life – even while he was mad at Steve for doing that to him. That he’d come to think of Steve as unfathomable, unpredictable, outside the realms of analysis and understanding… because of all those questions,

_If Steve’s so perfect, then why didn’t he tell me about my parents?_

_If Steve’s so perfect, then why didn’t he call me about the Super Soldiers?_

_If Steve’s so perfect, then why was he mean to me about ULTRON?_

Never realising… He’d added that initial assumption in himself. That Steve really _hadn’t_ said he was perfect – that he never even brought himself into it when he was trying to get people to go along with him. _He’d_ never said, _you should trust me because I’m Captain America. _Or, _you should trust me because I’m never wrong_. He’d only ever said, _here’s what I think, and why…_

Tony realised that, if he removed his own faulty hypothesis, and just asked himself the question – why might a _person_ do these things? Well, a few more possibilities might’ve occurred to him, at the very least. He might’ve considered the _possibility_ that Steve was scared, or desperate or… well, anything other than simply _assuming_ that Steve must stand by his every action, that his every deed would perfectly reflect his views and his character and his feelings for Tony…

It wasn’t like Tony hadn’t made mistakes when it came to the people he loved, before now. Made choices that had hurt them, _lied_ to them – and never because he didn’t care about them, or because he thought that behaviour was right…

And, God, he really had never put himself in Steve’s shoes before, had he? Or, wait – he’d never put Steve in his. He’d never considered that Steve would think the way he did, do things for the same irrational, unhealthy reasons he did, sometimes…

And Tony realised that he didn’t _need_ to hear what Steve really thought about last night for him to know what he really thought about Steve. That he already _knew_ Steve, he’d known him for seven years – and the only thing about him that had never made sense was the thing Tony had made up. The only confusion that Tony had ever felt was trying to reconcile Steve as he found him, with the facts Tony had decided _for_ Steve, in his own head. And when Tony dismissed his – obviously ridiculous, entirely baseless – assumptions about Steve, he was just left with Steve as he found him.

Well, that made a lot more sense.

Oh, and then a little spark of hope crept up on him… because he was suddenly pretty sure Steve _would_ be sorry for the things Tony had been mad about. He was _certain_ that the reasons Steve had given were the real ones – they made so much sense, given what Tony knew about him anyway. What he’d always known about him.

And then, of course, a little cooling of guilt.

Thinking of Steve like this… like he _really_ was… suddenly last night seemed uncomfortably one-sided.

…_unfair._

And that wasn’t to say that he didn’t _still_ think he’d had some good and important points. Some of which he was already glad he’d said out loud, however this worked out.

…But there were a few things he could have phrased better.

…And a few things he’d yelled at Steve for, when really, he was mad at other people

…And all the things he’d chosen not to bring up, because he’d decided this was _his_ rant.

It was the things he’d chosen not to say. That was the real issue here.

On balance, giving himself some leeway for the mind-altering drugs, he could probably stand by everything he’d said. Some of it he should’ve said to other people, okay. But he’d basically give a (much less dramatically worded) assessment of _those_ points if he was asked right now.

But he knew that was only because he’d chosen the points that suited him. Chosen to avoid the points that didn’t… one point in particular…

God, one thing he felt even _worse_ for, now that he knew-

_I should apologise_.

He just felt so bad for how he’d phrased everything – so guilty at the thought of what Steve might be thinking, right now. That instinct that something was off centre, not working properly, not right… and his natural inclination to _fix_. His utter inability to sit still while something was wrong, his need to be active right now. He _wanted_ to apologise for that. To even this out a bit. To make it better.

And it wasn’t until he was pulling his t-shirt over his head that it dawned on him…

…he _wanted_ to apologise.

And he glanced up at the door, and thought of Steve on the other side of it… pacing, probably…

_Oh._

Oh, he _understood_, now.

*

As soon as Tony opened the bedroom door, he regretted being so hasty.

He’d just had this impulse that he _had_ to talk to Steve – and acted on it. He’d come striding out of the bedroom, his mind already racing ahead to all the things he had to explain and undo and apologise for-

Oh, and there was Steve-

And, Jesus Christ, Tony was madly in love with Steve.

He stumbled to a stop, the blood already rushing to his face as his brain _belatedly_ reminded him of all the other things he’d meant to think about, before he got to this bit. Pointed out, _helpfully, _that he did already know that Steve was the most beautiful man on earth, so really, he should’ve been better prepared for this…

And then Steve smiled, _shyly_, and Tony felt his legs turn to water-

Okay. He’d gotten a little distracted there. But he managed to drag his thoughts back into focus, even over the top of this sudden surge of affection – maybe because of it. Because loving Steve as much as he did was the whole reason he wanted to do this…_had_ to do this. Now.

“So…Hi.” He managed, over what was apparently a stupid grin… which he didn’t know he’d broken into…

“Hi” Steve blushed, endearingly nervous.

And Tony suddenly realised just how _much_ he wanted this to work. He hadn’t thought it was possible to want to be with Steve more than he had for the last seven years… and now it was like he’d stepped up into another league entirely. It was so much better… or worse, he could tell… but it was so much more when he really thought there might be a chance…

“So, we, uh, should probably talk…” Tony mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Trying to think how he’d planned to start this thing before he got all love-struck and giddy… “I… feel like there’s some stuff I need to apologise for…”

And he saw that little flicker of distress in Steve’s eyes. The way he straightened up, and curled himself in just a little – the way his face _did not move_.

_Oh, he thinks I’m saying-_

“But I don’t mean saying I love you” Tony clarified, quickly. “And, just so you know, I meant every word of _that_. All that stuff, about being in love with you for years – that’s all true.”

Oh, and Steve let go of a relieved little breath, his eyes briefly flickering shut as he relaxed his body.

Tony’s heart broke in the nicest way…

“And, uh, if you _didn’t_ mean-”

“No, I did” Steve cut in, in that adorably earnest way of his.

And Tony actually made a little _hm_ noise when he smiled at that, which was vaguely embarrassing.

But he didn’t really care.

“I just meant, uh… I’m not saying I wasn’t completely drug fucked, I was… But I still feel like I knew exactly what I was doing, and it was exactly what I’ve always wanted to do. And, I know that might not be true of you, or, I don’t know, half true, or-”

“No, I meant everything” Steve told him – and Tony realised he’d been babbling.

And that both he and Steve had been slowly stepping forward. That, if he wanted to, Tony could reach out now and put his hands on Steve’s arms… maybe take that last step and-

If he’d felt like he’d been _owed_ an apology, he would absolutely have let it go right now.

But he felt like he _owed_ an apology – and that was more of a burden.

And _that_ was the point.

“Do you, uh, want to sit down?” Tony suggested, because his legs still felt weak. And Steve exhaled, and nodded, and stepped back to sink into the couch. And Tony sat at the other end, leaving just enough distance – wanting to make sure he got this out properly before he gave into temptation and just crawled into Steve’s lap

“So, I did…_basically_, mean everything I said last night. I, uh, regret _how_ I said some of it, and I regret the fact that I said some of it to you, and not the people I’m really mad at for those things – which I _will_ get to, I swear. But it’s not like I came out with any of that from nowhere” Tony began – another little twist of affection as he saw Steve drop his head and nod, somewhat sadly. “…Including the bit where I said I wasn’t mad anymore, and I forgive you for all that stuff, and all that.”

And Steve exhaled softly, and bit back a smile, and _oh, be still my heart_-

“But yeah, I wouldn’t have said it quite like that, if I’d known – and I should’ve known, that…” Tony sighed, and tried to order this in his head. “Well, for a start, I want to apologise for how… unfairly done, all that was, and… for the fact that I only did it that way because I assumed you didn’t care about any of it, which is kinda what I’m trying to apologise for in general”

“No, Tony, you were-”

“Well, wait, hang on” Tony smiled – and Steve paused. “The thing is Steve, I actually _want_ to apologise to you right now.” And Steve stilled completely, and sat back compliantly, for no reason other than Tony had asked him to… because he’d told Steve what he wanted.

And Tony took a slow breath.

Okay. He knew how to say this.

“So, the thing is Steve… You’re not really one for _saying_ you’re sorry much, are you?” Tony started, his voice warm and good humoured. And a blush coloured Steve’s cheeks, and he pinched his lips together in a little self depreciating smile, and nodded – _yeah, you got me_. “And, the thing is, for all this time I’ve just assumed that mean you _weren’t_ sorry. That you were bad at _being_ sorry. And I’ve just worked out – well, not worked out, that’s a bit generous – I’ve just been literally slapped in the face with the observation that… you not saying you're sorry isn’t evidence you aren’t sorry. It isn’t evidence of anything, because I don’t know what it is you’re _not_ saying… I just… thought I did. And, because I already thought I _knew_ you were thinking, I didn’t bother to… assess that, I guess. I didn’t bother to look and realise that… you’re not bad at _being_ sorry. Like you said that night you were drunk – you _did_ feel sorry for what you said when we first met, and you actually _changed your behaviour_. You made an effort not to do it again – and you never did. That’s the hard part about being sorry… and you did actually do that… and I never even noticed, because you didn’t say.”

And Tony could see a thoughtful… growing more emotional… expression on Steve face – and Dear Lord he hoped that was good amazed and not what-the-fuck amazed…

“And _then_ I got to thinking about why you never say it” Tony powered through. “You know, if there might be some alternative to this ‘Steve Just Thinks He’s God’ theory that I’d _decided_ on… for no real reason… And… You don’t say you’re sorry because people don’t let you, right?”

And he looked to Steve to give him some warning if he was on the wrong track entirely with this… But Steve just looked at him, either numb or overwhelmed… and then – the _tiniest_ little gesture – he nodded.

“You know, when I first took over Stark Industries, Obie had to have this whole big chat with me about the times I represented the company. You know, those times when what I said was the legal position of SI… and God, what an ominous responsibility that felt, for the few brief moments I was going it. Exhausting. And, Jesus, _apologising_ on behalf of a company – because people will remember every word of that statement. They’ll be able to use snippets of it against you in court later, if you ever contradict it. The brand will suffer, because people will forever associate your admissions with your name, it’ll mean you can never reach that standard again…” Tony went on.

And Steve was still nodding.

“And it never even occurred to me how much pressure there was on you – even when I was the one putting it there. I never thought that you’d get a completely different reaction to every apology… even from me, probably, before I worked all this out… And I’d never thought before… How horrible it must be, to not be _able_ to apologise. I hadn’t realised that… I do that for me, as much as for the other person, every time I do it. Because that’s how you draw a line under something. That’s how you work out if you can make it better, and how to do it. That’s how you move on from mistakes you’ve made and grow and keep building… and I just thought… How… _suffocating_, it would be, if I _had_ to stand by every choice I’d ever made, or deny every mistake. If people had jumped on my every apology and torn it to pieces and asked me to rehash everything I’d ever said in light of that… Even how it would feel to have a team of wide eyed admirers behind me, yelling ‘_you tell ‘em Tony!’_ when actually what I wanted to say was sorry… And yeah, I’m starting to think that might not be as fun as it sounds…”

And then he heard the softest little crack in Steve’s breathing… and glanced up to see a single tear slide down his face. There was a shock of panic in Tony’s chest – but the moment Steve caught his eye he shook his head, _no, it’s okay, go on._

_Please_.

“And, I dunno, I just thought of _you_… you know, _you_, and not this figure I’d made in my head… and then it seemed kind of obvious that… You woke up in a world where you didn’t have anyone to even run things by, where the rules had all changed and no one bothered to tell you – surrounded by people like me, making pop culture gags – and you’re immediately told you’re a symbol of all our lost hope… And everyone expects you to be perfect, and everyone is prepared to die for your honour whether you want them to or not… And you can’t even see a therapist about it, because your life is just _that_ shit… And still you try. All on your own, with no one to ask, you try to get better, you keep trying to get it right… And then I chain you to a bed and yell at you for not being quite good enough at _saying_ you're sorry. So. Point number one, I’m sorry for that”

And he saw Steve try to smile, a little shake of his head and the slightest shrug of his shoulders – _it’s okay._

And, obviously, Tony knew it wasn’t okay. That he had an awful lot of making up to do for that – a lot of things to change about the way he thought and the way he behaved. But, still, he was greatly relieved by that as a start.

“And, you know, I’m sorry for the general tone of a lot of it. I was yelling at this really arrogant, thoughtless ideologue who – on closer inspection – I have completely invented in my own mind. I know that isn’t you. I also know that you aren’t Clint, or Nat, or Scott, in case you thought I’d lost my damn mind” Tony sighed, and Steve breathed a soft little laugh. “And I think we can all agree that, whatever you could’ve done differently when you put that team together, or whatever – you really can’t be held responsible for Clint’s choice of words on the raft. When you weren’t even there. I don’t know why I was yelling at you for something Nat said to me, when you were half way across Europe. And just, in general, I’m sorry for always treating you like you were some sort of… figurehead, responsible for the whole organisation and never allowed to be… I’m sorry I always looked at it as how far you fell short of this arbitrary, _impossible_ standard I’d set for you, and not how far you exceeded the standards of literally every other person I know. Despite everything. I’m sorry for that.”

And he let his hand slide over to take Steve’s, a happy little dip in his stomach as he felt Steve squeeze it.

“And I am so sorry for what I did in that bunker.” Tony whispered.

And Steve’s head snapped up, his eyes suddenly fixed on Tony, the threat of tears receding in an instant. Tony swallowed an anxious, bitter taste –

But he carried on.

If he’d learned one thing from this whole debacle, it was that they both sucked at guessing what the other was thinking. That, whatever else happened, just saying it out loud was always a better answer.

“And, by ‘what I did in that bunker’, I mean I’m sorry I lost my temper and tried to physically attack you – _and_ Bucky – in such a way that you could’ve both died.” Tony cringed. “That was… irrational, unreasonable, dangerous behaviour – and just so you know, I _did_ know about that one. Even before all this – I wasn’t quite so dense that I imagined rage-induced revenge murder was an acceptable response. I was just… _so _hurt, and so… shocked, and I really don’t mean it as an excuse but I swear I… didn’t know _what_ I was doing. There was an actual moment, I remember it, like just snapping out of a trace when I realised that I’d almost done something – that I _had_ done something terrible. And I do think about it, sometimes, what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped me… And, since we’ve been here at least, I’ve thought about how… _scared_ you must’ve been then, and, yeah. I am sorry for that.”

“Tony, I…” Steve managed – and then cut himself off, and swallowed, like he was trying not to cry. And Tony just smiled, and waited. “I was so scared of mentioning Bucky… I thought…”

“We might fight about it?” Tony guessed. And Steve shrugged, _well, yeah…_ “You know, even if we had, I’d still love you. And, if you’d lost your temper and said something you didn’t mean, I wouldn’t hold that against you or let it change how I saw you… not anymore, anyway. And if you really do want to be with me after this, then it probably won’t be perfect all the time – but that’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to live in fear of the next time you make a mistake, or the day I find out that your ideology isn’t absolute, or any of that. Not anymore.”

And Steve actually put a hand to his chest, like he was trying to sooth his own heart… while Tony’s began to run away with him…

“So…Do you still hate Bucky?” Steve asked – like it’d taken all of his courage to get the words out.

“I never actually hated Bucky” Tony sighed, still somewhat embarrassed by this whole side of things “I don’t even know Bucky – I blamed him for all the hurt I felt in that moment, and… I probably would’ve known, even then, that it wasn’t his fault. If I’d let myself know it. If I hadn’t just wanted to lash out at someone… I do know it isn’t his fault, Steve. Actually… I know I should feel sorry for him. And… Look, I can’t promise it’ll be the easiest thing in the world, being around him, at first…”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, suddenly sounding anxious.

“Hey, I know that’s my issue.” Tony clarified “It’s not his fault, the things I might think about when I see him… So, _I’ll _just have to get over that. I’m just saying… I feel like I should be honest-”

“But you… you think you will see him again, is what I mean?” Steve cut in, leaning forward slightly.

Oh, Tony’s chest ached for him in that moment.

“I don’t expect him to stay in exile forever because I’m sensitive” Tony smiled, “It’ll just… take some work” He shrugged.

And Steve just looked so openly overwhelmed… Tony was worried that if he stared at him any longer, he’d catch it, and then they’d just get stuck in a perpetual loop of amazement.

What he said next was really just to break the tension.

“_Also”_ He began, seriously “In terms of things that have gone unsaid. And I know it probably seems redundant now…I guess I’m just saying this because I feel like it _should_ be said, at some point – But have you noticed that we’re at an orgy?”

And Steve just burst out laughing. That head back, full laugh that Tony had seen him do so rarely… that laugh he’d always loved more than anything.

“I just – I’m just going to say it: There is an awful lot of sex going on here, in the weirdest of places” Tony went on, giggling himself now, mostly at how much Steve was laughing “And I know we’ve done the shifty eyes ‘you know what might happen’ thing, but I just thought, at some point, one of us should just point out that we’re at an orgy, and that is weird.” And because Steve was laughing too hard to answer him, and because Tony just wanted to keep on making him laugh, he tried to keep talking “And at some point we’re going to have to write a _report_ on this-” But Steve had laughed even harder at that, and then Tony’s giggles got the better of him, and then neither of them could talk for a good few minutes-

And then Steve just grabbed Tony’s wrist, and pulled him into his lap like he was weightless. Tony let out a surprised yelp, still grinning when he felt Steve’s arms close around him…

…_Real_.

And feeling him there… realising that Steve _had_ just said he meant it, that they really _were_-

“You know, if there _is_ stuff you’re mad about, stuff I’ve not brought up yet – you can tell me” He breathed.

“I’m not” Steve smiled into his neck, holding him closer “I’m _just_ happy”

And Tony knew that wasn’t really _it_. There were other things _he _still felt he needed to apologise for, even if Steve didn’t have anything else. And he knew, really, Steve must have other things… That there must’ve been things that’d gotten to Steve over the years, ways that Tony’s misconceptions had hurt him… things he just wasn’t thinking of right now…

And, you know what?

“Well, that _might_ just mean that you’re ‘just’ happy right now.” Tony smiled. “And maybe there will be things you think of later – and that’s okay. If we’re going to be together, that gives us the rest of our lives to work through all this… However many goes it takes us, or whatever. You can _always_ just tell me, Steve.”

“…_Are_ we going to be together, after this?” Steve whispered.

“I want to be,” Tony answered, easily. “If that’s what you-”

“Of course it is” Steve assured him, _finally_ bringing him in to kiss him.

And Tony just let himself soften into the warmth of him, his body melting into that embrace as Steve’s beautiful, strong hands made their way up his back. A little voice whispered in Tony’s head, _he’s yours, now. _And then again, and again, until it was like a jubilant crowd in his head, jumping and cheering at waving banners – _He’s Yours! He’s Yours!_

And then Steve suddenly broke away, his arms immediately tense, and when Tony glanced up he saw Steve’s face creased with concern.

“The Post It.” He said, seriously.

And Tony’s first thought was that, okay, he’s thought of something. Apparently, at some point, Tony had done something with a Post It that had pissed Steve off, and he’d just thought of it. He even scrabbled to think of what Steve was talking about – but then Steve went on.

“There was a Post It note, stuck to the computer monitor, when I attached that tracker last night”

“…What?” Tony asked eventually. But, as the word left his mouth, he suddenly remembered “Oh! The mission! Oh my God, we’re still on a mission… I’d literally forgotten all about that” And – still somewhat reluctantly – he climbed out of Steve’s lap to go and find his file reader. “That is a very good point, we should absolutely stop the people who are enslaving an alien race…” He muttered to himself, watching the screen load, feeling ever so slightly guilty that he’d been so _completely_ distracted from that.

“Actually.” Steve said – his voice serious now. Even sombre

“I’m not sure that’s what’s going on here at all.”


	13. Chapter 13

Tony looked up at Steve, more concerned than confused. It was the tone Steve had used… the specific sadness of it… And the way his eyes momentarily drifted to somewhere in the middle distance…

In that instant, Tony was far more concerned by what had upset Steve than what might be wrong with the universe.

“Steve?” He pushed, gently, when Steve didn’t say anything. And Steve brought his focus back into the room with a little shake of his head.

“Last night, I found a computer in an empty room, to attach the tracker” He explained, sounding somewhere between frustrated and weary. “And it had _password, log in _and _save_ written on there – and next to them, there were those little patterns of squares-” And he fixed Tony with a knowing look “_just_ like on Zan’s letter, that came with the FOCUS.”

And Tony frowned, immediately picturing it… slowly beginning to realise what Steve meant...

“So, _either_, these evil human overlords have set their passwords in… Anni Varian, or-”

“Or that note was written by a Varian.” Tony finished for him, his tone just as weary now.

He had the sudden _feeling_ that he knew exactly where this was going, before he bothered processing all these new ideas… and he just knew it was going to be depressing, or infuriating, or both-

“A Varian?” Steve queried absentmindedly, his mind obviously on other things.

“Hm? Oh… Janine? Last night, she called them Varians…” Tony remembered, turning his attention back to the file reader, just wanting to check-

“…I think it was even in the same handwriting.” Steve added, almost to himself.

“…_Zan’s_ writing?”

“I don’t know – but that same boxy writing”

“Like it was written by an alien who usually writes in squares.” Tony sighed, looking away from his screen and back to Steve again. “Also, I’ve just done a basic scan – and none of these inputs are in an alien language. There are no non-recognised keyboards used. So, no one’s password is in Varian. That was probably a Post-it note translating those words _into _Varian, to help an alien use a human system. In fact-“ And he scrolled back through a few of the pages he’d just looked at. “Yeah, a _lot_ of these pages have got picture menus… and, yeah, fuck it, places where they represent the numbers with a number of little squares – this whole system has been adapted so that a Varian _can_ use it.”

“_Can_ you control the ventilation systems and everything, from there?” Steve asked, like he already knew the answer.

“I… haven’t found that yet… But, yeah, you could do a lot of damage from here” Tony answered the real question. “If I wanted to, I could shut this place down right now, in any number of ways. I found the control for the power” He gave the file reader a little wave to demonstrate. “So, yeah, whatever Varian they’ve given access to this system – and they’ve really gone out of their way, to help some Varian access this system – then that Varian _could_ free their people, any time they liked.”

“So, at least one of them is _helping_ to do all this.”

“…Probably pretty central to this, for them to bother adapting this much…” Tony said, still scrolling through files. “…You don’t adapt your entire system UI for someone you’ve bullied into helping you, or some toady who’s trying to get in with you. You do that when you’re working _with_ someone… And probably not just one…”

“So, one group of Varians in helping to enslave another.” Steve summarised, and sank heavily into the couch. “Thinking about it, I don’t know why I’m saying it like it’s ridiculous. People enslaving people from their own species, wow, never heard of that before…” And then his eyes snapped up to Tony, and he seemed to gather himself a little bit. “Sorry, not helpful” He muttered, with a little smile.

And Tony smiled back, sadly. He sank to sit on the floor, his back against the couch, so that he could briefly rest his head against Steve’s knee when he said,

“Why? You’re right – _it’s _awful, the _situation’s_ awful, _people_ are awful, all over the universe...” He shrugged – and Steve breathed out a little laugh, and nodded.

“Seems like it sometimes.” And then he let his head fall into his hands with a soft little groan. “Why would Zan lie to us?”

“I don’t know” Tony sat up straighter and shook his head, equally baffled. “I mean, either she being enslaved by other Varians, in which case why not just tell us? Or she’s one of the people doing the enslaving, and that _is_ her writing, and in that case why get us involved at all?”

“Maybe she doesn’t know it’s really her own people behind it?” Steve suggested, unenthusiastically. “Or… It’s actually a plan to take _us_ out… Turn us against each other? That’s usually what it is…” He finished, somewhat bitterly.

“Well, if that was the plan, she fucked that _right_ up” Tony observed, putting a gentle hand to the side of Steve’s leg – and Steve _really_ smiled at that…

_Still on a mission there, Tony…_

“And she’d have to have a reason, to want to do that.” Tony dragged the conversation back to business, reluctantly, his hand still on Steve’s leg. “I mean, it might be a stupid-ass reason… Is there _any_ way something I invented could’ve caused an accident that killed a person who was meant to do a thing on this planet, or something?”

“Don’t see how.” Steve sighed, “And I don’t think she can be pissed at me for… failing to save her family, or whatever, seeing as I’m pretty sure she’d never even heard of me. Well. I think.”

And he and Tony shared a questioning look.

“Maybe she’s using us for her _own_ ends” Steve suggested “To get rid of the humans… But the humans here have something to do with this, right?”

Tony glanced back to his file reader, and thought for a moment.

“Well, all of these systems _are_ human. Even the computers here have all been brought from earth… _that_ suggests that the Varians are fitting into their plan, not the other way around… Gimme a minute to have a look around here…”

And the room fell quiet for a few moments, as Tony flicked through thousands of screen shots and scanned over hundreds of files… and Steve just fell into a quiet lull, watching him…

“So… Okay, the bad news… I can’t find _anything_ here to suggest the humans weaponised anything” Tony announced, sadly. “I _can_ access the systems that are delivering drugs to the work basement… and there _are_ drugs being delivered down there, and from the notes it looks like they _are_ sedatives… So that part of what Zan said was true – the workers in that basement _are_ being drugged into submission.”

“And it is the human system that’s drugging them?” Steve frowned.

“_Well_, it is this human-designed - but apparently also Varian-used - system that is delivering the drugs.” Tony clarified. “But, looking at this… all the places they’ve used a ‘hybrid drug’ they’ve labelled it – and you can tell, from the chemical formulas, where some of them are _just _human and some are human with… _alien_, elements, and… The drug they’re pumping into the basement has no recognisable earth elements at all. It just really looks like they’re using a Varian drug, to do this.”

“So, Zan was lying about that too, it wasn’t the humans who turned these drugs against them”

“It looks more… like one group of Varians are letting these humans use their drugs against another group of Varians…” Tony narrated thoughtfully, eyes still locked on the screen. “…or, working _with _them…” And then he looked up at Steve again.

“Whatever’s really going on here, it’s very much a human-Varian partnership. Either they’re working _together_ on some… common goal… or else it’s a trade-off.” He suggested. “The Varians are letting the humans use their weapons and slave labour… and getting something else in return?”

“So, really, we have no idea _what’s_ going on?” Steve smiled weakly. And Tony sighed.

“Not really, no.” And then an uncomfortable thought occurred to him.

“What?” Steve asked, softly, when he saw the expression on Tony’s face.

“Hm? Oh, I just… She said she was being _forced_ to develop new drugs.”

“And?”

“And… you can’t force someone to be creative.” He sighed, unhappily. “The people they have in the basement, just grinding up beads… maybe you can force people to do work like that, under a sedative. But you can’t drug people into submission and then expect them to push themselves to new discoveries… that… should’ve seemed suspicious earlier, I think…”

And he felt Steve’s hand, broad and warm and strong, on the back of his head. A silent comfort. He leant into it, softly.

“How much can we find out from that?” Steve gestured to the file reader.

“Well, give me a couple of hours snooping, probably quite a lot.” Tony considered. “There’s a hell of a lot of research data, that would probably tell us something…”

“But?” Steve guessed.

“I don’t know, it’s only going to be half the story… I just, suddenly there are a lot of unknowns that probably _aren’t_ going to be on file here.”

“Like whether slavery is legal and accepted on Anni Vara, or whether this is a super villain at work?” Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Is just one issue that complicates this a bit, yeah” Tony agreed, unhappily “And what the relationship is between these two groups – I mean, there _might_ be an email from Zan here outlining her secret vendetta against her business partners, but I doubt it.”

“Assuming Zan even knows that it _is_ Varians behind it.” Steve added. And Tony just sighed, _exactly._

Wow. What a mess.

And he glanced back at the file reader, not really looking at it – until he happened to catch a string of alien formulas that somehow looked familiar…

_Hm. I wonder_.

He couldn’t help himself. He’d been the same since he was a kid – always looking for patterns in strings of numbers, or trying to work out the mechanics of things, or trying to translate things in his mind. A little game, really… But, you know… He really might be able to work out the science of this place, if he had a few minutes…

“…We need to talk to Zan again.” Tony muttered, scanning back for a very specific file.

“What would be the point?” Steve frowned “She’s only going to lie to us again. We don’t know enough about what’s going on to threaten her, even.”

And it took Tony a few seconds to answer – because he’d found the page he was looking for.

“Okay, so, just an idea, that I’m literally having right now – might not be a good idea, but.” He started, and glanced back up at Steve. “So, you know the drug they put in the air here, that makes everyone all talkative and relaxed – the one that Dev was _quite insistent_ was not a truth serum?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, me thinks Dev doth protest too much – because I’m pretty sure it’s _not _a truth serum, but it is derived from one.” And Steve just frowned at him, _go on._ “So, okay, there _is_ sort of such a thing as a truth serum on earth, kinda. I mean, it’s not exactly, but- well, basically it is. And… okay, so…” He traced his fingers over the lines on the screen, trying to think how to word this idea – to himself, before he tried to explain it to Steve. “So, looking at the research files, from the third-floor party – they’re all just plain ol’ human research files, so they’re easy to read… And it looks as though this is how they record it, when they’re adapting a Varian drug, see?”

And he showed Steve the file reader, now displaying a random screen of research data.

“So, _this_, I think, is the Varian drug” And he pointed to a strange collection of symbols at the top of the page. All of them human, but almost comically out of place – like there were sections of the research written in Wingdings. “And, this is how they’ve adapted it for this particular test – I _think_ just by adding Calcium Carbonate? But, whatever, the point is they’ve clearly got a system to label the mixed drugs they make…”

And, he pointed to one of the data points, and the strange, half-hieroglyphic-half-recognisable-chemical-formula label written next to it…

“And, okay, _this_…” And Tony had to scroll through a few pages to find it “Is, I think, the chemical they pump into the air here – see, different concentrations at different times… And it has a weird, _half_ alien chemical, not like the one being pumped into the basement… and _this_, I’m pretty sure, is the Varian chemical it’s derived from. And… I think… No, I’m sure, this is a Varian truth serum.” He pointed at it, more animatedly now. “Or at least something that’ll work that way, if we need it to. I just think… It has a lot of similarities to the chemical formula we use… _and_, the way the humans are using it… trying to dilute it, trying to enhance _this_ element of it” His fingers danced across the screen, flitting between different symbols and readings “And control _this_… I think the Varians have given the humans a truth serum, and they’re trying to turn it into some sort of… relaxation… drug, or something…” Tony trailed off momentarily, wondering if _he_ knew where he was going with this…

“You’re saying you can make a Varian truth serum?” Steve summarised, one eyebrow raised.

“…I’m not saying we _should_” Tony clarified, slowly. “Cos, like I say – just having this idea out loud right now, in real time… But… Yeah, I’m pretty sure I _could_. Increasingly sure…”

Steve let out a long, slow breath, and looked up at the ceiling. Then he glanced down, and Tony saw a little thought flicker behind his eyes before he asked,

“What do you mean, there’s a human truth serum?”

And Tony couldn’t help wondering how he’d have heard that, a few days ago. What he might’ve assumed Steve’s thoughts to be, what he’d have seen when he looked at him. Somewhere, he recognised that these were the times they used to fight… he thought, probably, he’d have heard an accusation in Steve’s tone there, or some level of judgement. That his first reaction would probably have been,_ what do you mean, what do I mean?_ But even though he remembered thinking those things, and he could even work out when he would have said them… he found it hard to understand it now. These were his own past thoughts, and yet suddenly he couldn’t empathise with them.

And, once again, it was the things Tony _hadn’t_ thought that were the issue.

He would never have thought about Steve’s history, when interpreting his tone. The fact that he’d been tasked with taking down the Nazi Science Division. The fact that he was himself the product of an experiment designed to win a war. That he must think, all the time, about what the _good_ guys in SHIELD had accepted, because their secretly-HYRDRA bosses said that experiment or that tech or that weapon was a necessary evil…

If there was any anxiety or animosity in Steve’s tone right now… well, there was a time when Tony would simply have assumed that it was aimed at him.

And it probably would’ve have occurred to him to note that – Steve hadn’t argued with anything, yet. He was just trying to get his head around it first, asking some of the questions that would _obviously_ come to his mind, when Tony thought what he’d been through.

And it probably wouldn’t have occurred to him to wonder… How anyone _would_ get their head around a new idea, or update their ideas, or consider a unique set of circumstances, if they never felt safe enough to just ask what the hell was going on…

Because they couldn’t trust the person they were discussing it with to just _answer the fucking question,_ rather than taking it personally...

_Hm_…

“Well, like I say – sort of” Tony sighed, “Governments around the world have actually been working on making a ‘truth serum’ since, like, the 1960s… possibly earlier. And most of those theories were focused on barbiturates – which basically ‘worked’ by lowering inhibitions, and making people more pliable. And generally, they were useless. Because, yeah, they could sometimes get people to talk, but they also made people really suggestible, and passive, and generally likely to parrot back anything they heard. _Or_, they had psychoactive side effects, so they’d literally make people see and hear and remember things that weren’t real. And they were hit and miss in terms of how effective they were – and so on.” Tony shrugged, and glanced at Steve –

Just listening to him. Interested.

“But, uh, last year, Agent Woo brought in this criminal gang that Scott Lang and his friends had apprehended – all of whom were under the influence of their own truth serum. Turns out, this guy, Sonny, I think? Had developed what is probably _the closest _thing to a working truth serum there is. And Scott, or one of his friends, gave it to _him_ – which helped prove how effective it was, because he did freely give up all this relevant information without any suggestion from the interrogators whatsoever. Including most of the details about how the truth serum was made.” Tony finished explaining. And Steve let go of another little breath.

“So, there’s a working truth serum on earth, now?” He asked, like he knew he’d drifted off topic, but he just wanted to know.

“Well, as far as I know, no one has actually attempted to reproduce it yet” Tony smiled, knowingly. “And, I dunno, that _might_ actually be true… I _always_ thought a truth serum was a really weird thing for a government to want to invent. I wonder if, when they were faced with it, a lot of agents, politicians didn’t rethink that…”

Steve actually breathed out a little laugh. And Tony thought to himself… _well, look at us, just chatting._

“…But yeah, I don’t know for sure.” Tony shrugged. “…_although_, it seems ‘The Adams’, or whoever they really are, _have_ been given access to something like it, and _they_ don’t seem interested in using it as a truth serum either…”

“But you think maybe you can do to Zan what Scott did to Sonny?” Steve brought his focus back to the issue. And Tony looked back at his screen.

“Well…It’s not quite so simple as using her own drug against her. I’m going to have to engineer this, using the other drugs we have access to. And she’s a completely different species, and I’m not familiar with the biology… So, yeah, this isn’t quite what Scott did. This is me suggesting I can maybe_ engineer_ a drug, without any real expertise, and then administer it, untested, on what might be an innocent ally, with no _real_ idea of what it’ll do to her…” Tony thought out loud, almost talking himself out of it. But. “…I _am_ pretty sure I can work out the science of this, though. And I do have a hell of a lot of research here to help me, and a lot of it looks like it specifically refers to how you adapt these drugs… the other way, at least… and there are other experiments I could do first, to check I’m on the right track. See if these elements react the way I’m expecting them to, in general…”

And Steve looked at him for a moment, obviously weighing the options up.

“It would be nice to get a straight answer out of someone for once…” Steve mused eventually, falling into the back of the couch again. “…I actually don’t know how we’re going to work this out if we can’t find _one_ certainty to start with…”

And Tony knew, normally, this would be the moment he leapt in there. It just felt like that point in the conversation where he’d raise his voice slightly, or start to speak more quickly… He couldn’t say how he knew that, exactly. He could just so easily imagine himself on the defensive right now. Trying to make the case for his idea even before he was sure of it, because he wanted to convince Steve….sounded very silly now, but still.

This time he thought he’d try just shutting up and letting Steve think.

And when Steve looked back at him again there was this expression on his face. One Tony _had_ seen before… thousands of times, now that he thought of it… a look he’d never been quite able to place, until now.

_Now, _of course, it seemed perfectly obvious-

“You just aren’t sure about all this, huh.” Tony smiled, deliberately keeping his voice friendly. And Steve winced a little smile back at him – like he’d been caught out. Clearly, one night of kinky sex and drug fucked conversation hadn’t completely cured that deep-rooted anxiety of his…

Tony thought about telling Steve that he’d have liked him so much _more_, if Steve hadn’t spent the last seven years faking an immovable confidence in his every choice… But he recognised that it’d come out like an attack, or at the very least it’d make Steve feel guilty, and that wasn’t what he meant at all. In fact, he was only just working out exactly what he meant…

…Just how crippling the expectations placed on Steve’s shoulders would _really_ be.

…Just how amazingly well Steve _had_ done – how _few_ unhealthy or selfish coping mechanisms he’d resorted to – even with all that pressure.

…The fact that, now that he thought about it, Tony might actually do that whole ‘pretending to be sure’ thing sometimes, too – at least around Steve.

So, he rethought his wording, and instead he said,

“That’s probably a good thing, on this occasion.” And carried on smiling as Steve frowned at him, _you think_? “Well, it’s one thing, being a decisive leader and all that. But we’re talking about using an experimental drug on an unknown species on an unfamiliar planet – while we don’t even know who the bad guys are. If you were immediately completely sure in _this_ situation, then maybe it means you’re clinically insane.” Tony finished, breezily. And Steve huffed a soft little laugh, a genuine softness somewhere in his eyes now.

And then he took a little breath, and Tony just knew he was steeling himself for something. He could see the way he pursed his lips, like he _wanted_ to say something. And Tony just raised his eyebrows, _go on_…

“Do you think it’s wrong that… I really wish I knew which side she was on, before I made that choice?” Steve asked, eventually. Quietly.

“No.” Tony frowned, softly. “I mean, _I_ wish I knew whether she was on our side, before I make this choice.”

“But it’s not like I can say, it’s okay to use experimental drugs on people if they’re not on our side.” Steve went on, just as hesitantly – and a _little_ louder. “I’m not sure I could defend that as a criteria for whether something is… _inhumane_, or not.”

And Tony thought about it for a moment.

“Well… I think there is a difference between something being _inhumane_, in and of itself, and something it would be unfair to do to someone, except under specific circumstances…” He mused… Settling into this conversation in a strangely comfortable way…. “I mean, if we think about this and decide it’s just flat out _inhumane_, then that’s probably the question answered. But, there _are_ things I’d do to an enemy henchman that I’d feel bad doing to someone who genuinely needed my help. I mean, I kinda feel like if _she’s_ decided to go all double-agent, and especially if she’s trying to work against _us_… well then, she’s kinda signed herself for _some_ consequences. If she’s a victim of enslavement who thinks she _is_ telling us the truth…” He trailed off into a shrug.

He noticed Steve seemed a bit more relaxed than he had, at least. And Tony realised… yeah, there was a niceness to this. Being able to talk in the abstract about the issues that were outside of all human experience, but somehow still part of their actual lives…

“But I can’t find any reference to her by name, so I suspect we won’t be able to answer that, from the files we have.” Tony sighed, waving the file reader again.

“…Could we find reference to something she shouldn’t know?” Steve asked, an interested edge on his voice now.

And Tony felt his lips curl into a smile again.

“…You mean, could _we_ maybe be the sneaky, manipulative ones, just for once?”

And Steve smiled back, the same smile.

“_May_be, we could try being the ones playing the two sides off against each other, for a change.”

*

Step one of their plan involved finding Zan in the first place.

Which meant an afternoon spent walking around The Facility, as a couple.

And Tony couldn’t help thinking, what a difference five days could make. How… _bizarre_, it seemed, that less than a week ago this had been ‘his personal vision of Hell’. Whereas now, of course, just walking around the place with Steve’s hand in his made him feel slightly giddy…

Maybe it was just getting on for that time of the day.

“Have we already been here once?” Steve asked casually, as they turned into another softly lit piano bar.

“Er, not today, I don’t think” Tony answered, scanning the room. “Two, three days ago, maybe?”

“This is the bar where I first saw her” Steve remembered with a smile. And then he caught Tony’s eye “C’mon, let’s go and get a drink” And Tony just followed him happily, feeling a little thrill run up his arm at the resting strength he could feel beneath Steve’s grip.

_Such beautiful arms…_

Tony caught himself looking, as they reached the bar – and had to remind himself that it wasn’t really being ‘caught’ anymore. He kept having to remind himself. He wondered if this would ever sink in, if there would ever be a time when he was ‘used to’ Steve _being his boyfriend_. How long it would be before it stopped occurring to him in a burst of excitement, _no he’s actually mine. _

_I can look_

_I can…_

And, as the bartender turned to make whatever drinks Steve had ordered for them, Tony dared to let his hand slip away from Steve’s… over his wrist, his forearms… up over the smooth expanse of skin, the line of solid muscle… The whole time almost holding his breath, trying to control the butterflies in his stomach. And then he felt the slightest flicker of tension run up through Steve’s shoulder-

He glanced up, and saw Steve smiling at him, his eyes dropping not very subtly to Tony’s lips.

Tony thought back to all the times Steve had looked at him a certain way, and that little pleading voice had whispered in his head, _kiss me…_

And then Steve’s hand was on the small of his back, strong and safe and still somehow tender, pulling Tony close. Tony tilted his head up and let Steve kiss him, soft and slow, gently teasing Tony’s mouth open as Tony slid his arms around Steve’s waist-

The glasses hit the bar with too aggressive a bump.

Both Steve and Tony snapped to attention just in time to see Zan, turning away from them and _pointedly_ focusing her gaze on some menial task just below the bar. Or pretending she was doing something, anyway.

And, of course, she could simply have banged the glasses down in an attempt to get their attention. She might be refusing to look at them because she didn’t want anyone to see them talking. It would’ve made sense.

But Tony couldn’t help _feeling_ like she was angry at both of them. That she didn’t _want_ to look at either of them right now – like she wanted them to know she was pissed off.

“We’ve been looking for you.” Steve spoke softly, his face still turned towards Tony – playing along with her game, for the time being.

“I see you’ve changed your mind about this place” She said, bitterly.

And, yup, she was _definitely_ pissed with them.

“What would make you think that?” Steve snorted.

“Well, nothing else has changed.” She answered curtly, still looking at whatever she was washing/chopping/peeling.

“Since yesterday?” Tony challenged, sarcastically. She her eyes flitted up very briefly, at that.

“I don’t know how much you think you know about what’s really going on here.” Steve added lightly-

And Tony saw Zan flinch. He was sure Steve must’ve seen it too. But, obviously, as per the plan, Steve pretended he hadn’t.

“But it’s not something we can just blow up.”

“You know what their secret project is?” Zan asked, an unmistakable edge of panic on her voice.

“Not yet. We could only get a very brief look at things, while we were on the third floor.” Steve assured her –

Although, only part of that was a lie – they really _didn’t_ know what the secret project was, yet. 

Tony had spent the morning scanning through every file stored on The Facility’s central system. They’d managed to piece together the basic schedule for the entire building, the staff hierarchies – the goal of each _individual_ experiment, at least. But nowhere in any of the files was there any reference to an overall project. Which, okay, might’ve meant that Zan was just making that up… But Tony didn’t think so.

For a start, the research seemed to focus on a few very specific areas – dismissing plenty of potentially interesting findings that fell outside of the scope. For whatever reason, The Facility seemed pretty interested in lowering peoples inhibitions, heightening their sexual gratification, lessening the after effects of traditional drugs, and helping people to feel calm… and entirely _disinterested_ in truth serums, cures for genuine sexual disfunction, reducing the likelihood of addiction, and any number of other potential leads that had been raised by their research, and discounted. That, and the fact that the results of each experiment were recorded and filed separately – there was not one single report making reference to multiple studies, or even multiple tests.

There was just no way that these topics had been picked at random, and no way they were being looked at in isolation. They had to be connected by _something_ – and the fact that it wasn’t referenced on the system anywhere was deeply suspicious.

That, and the fact that Zan looked genuinely worried right now.

“But, potentially, they already have a lot more destructive capability than you give them credit for.” Steve informed her, gravely. And she gave in and looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“What do you mean?” She demanded.

“We don’t have all the details yet, but, among other things, we think the Adams _might_ have the ability to kill groups based on their DNA.” Steve informed her, seriously. Her lip quivered.

Somewhere at the back of Tony’s head, it occurred to him…

_Steve isn’t an especially good liar._

_He’s not an especially bad liar, either. _

And, of course, Steve couldn’t be _that _bad a liar, because he was that clever… and used to doing things that made him uncomfortable, when he had to.

And Tony thought he’d have known Steve was lying right now – at the very least, he’d have known he was uncomfortable saying this. But Zan didn’t. Unless Zan was a better actor than even Natasha, Zan believed him… Which, Tony realised, didn’t really have anything to do with how good a liar Steve was… As long as he was basically _good enough_ for the situation…

Steve wasn’t a really ‘a liar’ at all. Just a person who _had_ told lies-

Like him.

“_Which_ means that, if we make an attempt to take them down, it has to work – do you understand?” Steve added. And Zan gave a tiny little nod, in spite of herself.

“And it means we need your help” Tony chipped in – and now Zan looked outright alarmed.

“But there’s nothing more I _can-_”

“Keeping in mind, the alternative is staying enslaved by a group of people who might well be able to kill your entire species with the flick of a switch.” Tony talked over her, in the same level tone.

“And, if you’re saying you can’t help us because you’re worried about what will happen to you… Then, I’m sorry, I really am” And Steve looked her right in the eye then, his tone cold but somehow still compassionate, “But, if we go in without your help, and we get it wrong – if we _try_ to take them out, and even one of them realises too soon – then it may be that something happens to you anyway. To all of you.”

Zan looked down. Tony fought the temptation to glance up at Steve.

“What do you need?” She asked, eventually.

“We need to talk to one of the humans that work here, preferably someone with access to the research work” Tony told her, efficiently. “So, we need you to find us somewhere we can interrogate them without being seen – but, more importantly, we need something we can do with that person for at least a couple of hours afterwards.”

“Somewhere to lock them up, some way to get them off the planet entirely – some way to knock them out safely, and somewhere to leave them, if there’s nothing else.” Steve suggested.

“And, while we’re on the topic – if you do have any drugs that’d make a human more susceptible to interrogation, that’d be great.” Tony chipped in.

Zan stood and fidgeted for a few moments. Tony glanced around the room, as casually as he could, trying to spot if anyone was paying attention to them. He didn’t _think_ so-

“There’s a room on the second floor” She said eventually, talking to the floor now “It’s dark, and has a lot of obstructions… and an office, set behind it. You’d be able to interrogate someone there, without anyone seeing you, if you were _discreet_.” She glanced up to flash them each a sharp look before she carried on “The man who runs the sex research is called Franciszek, he goes to that party to observe at _some_ stage every evening, but I couldn’t tell you exactly when he was going to be there.”

“It’s fine, we can handle that side of things” Steve assured her. “The real question is what we’re going to do with him once we’ve questioned him.”

“Do you have someone on earth you can trust?” She asked, her tone serious.

“Yeah, we got a whole team of people you can trust more than anyone” Tony promised.

“…The portals that bring people here are our technology, not the humans” She explained carefully. “I can meet you at the party tonight, and show you how it works. That way, when you get to speak to Franciszek, you can just send him straight to your friends afterwards.”

Tony tried not to smile too broadly at that.

“Perfect” Steve breathed, softly.

“I’ll see if there’s anything I can brew to help you, but I can’t promise.” She added. And they both nodded.

“Which room exactly?” Tony asked,

“It’s called the Shadow Party, it’s the first room you come to, at the top of the main staircase.” Zan answered efficiently. “You need to be there from nine tonight. I can’t promise when I can get to you – but I will find you before Franciszek arrives.” She was already lifting the bar as she spoke, walking to the other side of it. Barely glancing up at them before she added.

“Just try not to attract too much attention to yourselves in the meantime, okay?”

And, with that, she was gone – at speed.

“Remarkably quick for a woman being force fed sedatives, isn’t she?” Steve noted, sardonically. Tony huffed out a little laugh.

“I don’t think she’s lying about the ‘special project’, though”

“No, I really don’t think she knows what that is” Steve agreed “But she’s lying about everything else.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Tony nodded, pulling his file reader out of his pocket anyway.

He figured, moving at _that_ speed, it wouldn’t take her that long to reach a computer.

“User 30251 has just accessed the system.” He observed, casually. “…And accessed a Dr Franciszek Kowalczyk’s file.”

Steve exhaled softly.

“You remember when we asked her if she knew any of the people who ran this place?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded “She said there was a Maribelle, a Louise, a Wang, and a Dr Simonetti – and she didn’t know anyone else’s name.”

“Hm.”

“Well… At least I feel better about the rest of the plan” Tony suggested, scanning his screen one last time before he put the file reader back into his pocket. And he glanced up at Steve, and Steve smiled at him.

“So, back to the room so you can conduct chemistry experiments in the sink?” Steve offered, cheerfully.

“Um-hm.” Tony nodded. “And then we go to a sex party and try to blend in…”

And Tony really hadn’t thought about it, until he made that joke.

And then he realised… and looked up, and saw Steve realise…

And blush.

And smile.

Well.

That was… exciting.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there is smut in this chapter, I swear - you just have to read through like 9k of introspection and character examination to get to it. ahem. BUT, when we get there, the standard warnings apply - there is a drug being pumped into the air in this place, and their interactions are perhaps a bit more intense and emotional because of that, so there is arguably that dub-con element. HOWEVER, i really don't think any further end notes apply on this one... but, if anyone would like further details, or would like to make suggestions for further warnings, please just let me know
> 
> Enjoy!

Actually, Tony had carried out most of his experiments on the living room floor, using a Kevlar undershirt as a mat.

The fact that there weren’t _more_ singe marks and brightly coloured stains on the carpet was a miracle, really, when one considered Tony’s bold, erratic, almost _artistic_ style of working…

And Steve _had_ been considering it. He’d very much enjoyed being able to just sit and watch Tony – simply being able to think about how much he loved him, without having to worry about what he was doing with his face.

…Being able to think about it, without it being sad.

So, he just let himself grin stupidly, thinking how clever and unusual and _bright_ Tony was, observing all the wonderful little details of him as he worked. Letting his eyes run over Tony’s soft, dark hair and his delicate, skilled fingers and the curve of his lips as he pursed them in thought or smiled in satisfaction. And Steve revelled in the fact that there wasn’t the wistful longing, or the unspecific guilt, or the fear of what this was going to turn into… and he let that relief gradually melt into a happiness, and then heat to an excitement, as he thought how much he wanted to touch Tony’s hair and feel his fingers on his skin and kiss those perfect lips a thousand different ways…and that he was allowed to think it…and then, that he was allowed to do it. That he _would_ run his hands through Tony’s hair again, and feel Tony’s hands pressed hard and desperate against his back, and feel Tony’s lips pressed to his neck-

“What’re you smiling at?” Tony grinned, not even taking his eyes off of the little vial he was holding.

And Steve blushed, and smiled even more, and just answered,

“You.”

And, oh, there was _the_ prettiest look on Tony’s face then…

“Well, I did warn you this might lead to more drugs in the air” He joked, gesturing the makeshift Bunsen burner that was now cooling on the edge of his mat. And Steve just breathed a little laugh, because he knew it wasn’t that. “Although, actually, if there are any excess drugs in the air right now, they should just mean you _really_ don’t’ have a head-ache.” Tony clarified, glancing at the notes on his file reader again anyway.

“Well, I really _don’t_ have a head-ache.” Steve told him, still smiling – because he knew _that_ wasn’t the drugs either.

“You know, I’m pretty sure that works by making your own cells hydrate themselves better…” Tony mused, putting the vial into a little rack and taking out another. “And if that’s true, then the medical research potential of that would be worth…well, billions, if you think of where you could go from there…” And Steve could see him, thinking of all the different avenues he could explore from that one finding…all the different diseases and injuries it might heal… all the people he could help… all just snapping through his mind, a chain of sparks, while he carried on a casual conversation about something else…. “I’m just saying, they’ve dismissed a lot of things here that could’ve made them rich without much more effort.” He finished with a shrug.

“It kinda overwhelms me, sometimes, how smart you are.” Steve observed. Just because he was thinking it.

…Because he _wanted_ to say that. He always had.

And then Tony looked up at him – the strangest look on his face. Like he wasn’t quite sure whether to smile or not. Not alarmed, or concerned, exactly… but…_aware_, somehow. As though there were some greater significance to what Steve had just said, some second meaning, something Tony had to _consider_ in some way…

The strangest look. But still so familiar.

“You’re talking to someone who doesn’t remember their own office phone number” Tony mumbled, looking back at his experiment even though nothing seemed to be happening with it at the moment.

“You can remember pi to, what was it, 100 digits?” Steve snorted.

“Er, _200_ digits, thank you” Tony informed him, finally letting himself smile.

And Steve felt that same stirring of familiarity, even stronger now. The sense that he knew what was happening here, somewhere in the back of his mind…

“So I know you _could_ remember your office phone number” Steve carried on with his line of thought anyway “And, anyway, you _do_ know your own office number. It’s ‘FRIDAY, call the office’” And Tony laughed more genuinely at that. “…And you _invented_ FRIDAY…” Steve continued musing-

Noticing the way Tony’s smile flickered on his face, when he said it.

…Recognising the instinct to back off.

But that was an old instinct, right? A hangover from when he’d felt like he couldn’t talk to Tony about anything… He’d spent years worrying that, if he were ever genuinely nice to Tony, and honest about his qualities, it would give him away somehow, make everything complicated, lead him into a conversation he wouldn’t know how to finish or get out of… And he was still in that habit, apparently.

…Was it that?

…Was it _only_ that?

Hm.

Well, whatever it was that’d stopped him telling Tony all this, Steve was sorry for it. That much he was sure of. He knew that he wished he’d said it all sooner, that Tony had never felt unloved or unwanted – that they hadn’t wasted so much time.

So.

“You know, when I first woke up in the 21st century, there were all these things that just… wouldn’t fit in my head?” Steve started, casually. “And, usually, it was because no one had bothered to mention that the scale had changed, or the context… Like, when Coulson was first telling me about you, and he just mentioned that you were worth something like twelve _billion_ dollars – and I assumed he’d said it wrong. Because, at the time, I was thinking… I remember, when I was a kid, my mother raving about the injustice of Henry Ford having a hundred million dollars to spend – and Mary Kelly, from next door, rolling her eyes and telling her that _no one_ had that much money. There probably wasn’t even that much money in all the world…” And he glanced down at Tony – who looked far more relaxed now that they were talking about how unfair his wealth was, than he had when they were talking about how advanced his intellect was…

…_hm_.

“But, then, no one had bothered to tell me just how much the value of things had changed. I didn’t know that, in today’s money, Henry Ford would’ve been worth something like, two _hundred_ billion, I think it is? And I knew that there would _be_ inflation, but I just… didn’t add that much on. So, at the time it made it sound like you were… like you had a hundred times more money than Mary Kelly thought there was on earth. So, yeah, it was like Coulson had just said you had a kajillion dollars, or something, it just wasn’t a…” And he gestured vaguely to his head, _mind blown_, and Tony laughed softly, _fair enough._

“…And _then_.” Steve carried on “I remember, maybe two weeks later? Fury was showing me the profiles for the team – and it just had your IQ listed at the top there as being _270_.”

And Tony flinched a little; Steve saw him do it, however quickly he’d covered it. He was _still_ sitting with his back a little straighter, when Steve went on,

“And I remember being suddenly confused about how IQ worked. Almost convincing myself that 200 was average, and trying to work it out from there – and then thinking, _wait, I’m sure it’s 100 that’s average_. And being _so_ sure that I remembered Einstein’s IQ was 160, and actually asking myself if I was _sure_ it wasn’t 260 instead… So, I pointed it out to Fury, and I asked. And I either expected him to say it was an error, that it was supposed to say 170, and that you were actually _ten_ points smarter than Einstein… which would still be… But, you know, I’d met you by then, and _that_ I could understand really easily… _Or_, I thought he was going to tell me that they just measured it differently now. 200 _is_ average now. Einstein would be a 240 today, or something…”

And he noticed the fact that Tony was still sitting stiffly. That he was looking slightly downwards, only intermittently meeting his eye…

“And Nick just said something like, yeah, it’s an aggregate score.” Steve remembered, almost laughing “And I thought, what, is that like a different type of IQ? And he just said that, when you get to _that_ level of intellect, it’s pretty hard to measure, but based on the scores they had, it was a best guess – and I just looked at him, like… That’s it? That’s just… his IQ then. His IQ is just… a kajillion, then. And that just… didn’t fit in my head.”

“Christ, what did you think when you saw Bruce’s number?” Tony asked, with a laugh you’d swear was genuine…

_…but,_

_…hang on, I know he’s doing-_

“I don’t remember” Steve answered automatically – getting vaguely distracted by his slowly developing enlightenment… “I don’t know if I even looked at his, actually.”

“Distracted by the pretty picture, were you?” Tony grinned. And Steve blushed-

But not as much as Tony was…

And then, just _so_ smoothly, Tony carried on,

“And, as much as I hate having to say this – _ever_, Nick is right. Those tests are pretty worthless after a point. I mean, I’ve never taken an IQ test that would reward you for recognising an alien post-it note, while on drugs.”

And he smiled at Steve. And Steve felt a warm feeling in his stomach, and a flicker of interest-

And the vague feeling of being distracted from something. Some other thing he was in the middle of working out…

“And, actually, while we’re giving you credit for being as smart as you are…” Tony breezed on, so naturally…

And Steve thought…_realised_, that-

_Well, we weren’t actually-_

_We were talking about how smart you are…_

And now, just like that, they weren’t anymore.

…Which was _also_ very clever really, wasn’t it?

_So_ cleverly done, in fact – so practiced and nuanced – that Steve had no choice but to be carried along with it, even now that he knew what Tony was doing.

“I was thinking – so, you know…there were a lot of things, I, uh, phrased very badly, last night?” Tony went on, a bit more softly – giving his equipment one final glance over before he shuffled back from it, to sit closer “I just… So, I _do_ think, you should’ve told me what was going on earlier, called me after what happened at the compound with Zemo, or whatever… _as it turns out_. But, uh, I’ve just been thinking, about how I wish I’d been suspicious of Zan earlier…”

“That’s not your fault.” Steve frowned, sitting up a little straighter – and Tony huffed out a little laugh.

“Well, in _hindsight_ – and, that’s kind of the point I’m making. That hindsight is always 20:20. And…I dunno, some of that stuff I just - _came out with_ last night, because I was on drugs and ranting and not really trying to be fair… But I guess I feel worse about this one, now, because I think I really _thought_, before… I _know_ I’d thought that whole thing about Scott running around in my suit, before then. And, okay, mostly on nights when I was drunk and ranting in my head and not trying to be fair either, but still… I know, I _did _think, even without the drugs, that you’d been so reckless, and must’ve put so little thought into it, cos look at _what happened…_ and, uh, I’m sorry for that now.”

“There _are _a lot of things I wish I’d done differently.” Steve told him, softly. “And there are things I _am _sorry I didn’t think of-”

“I know.” Tony cut him off with a gentle smile. “But, I also know… that I put so much thought into the thing at that airport. I _did_ tell everyone to put safety first and to be aware of, you know, everything I could think of – but, honestly, I didn’t think of if suddenly there was a really enormous guy walking around. And then when Peter suggested the whole _Empire Strikes Back_ solution – well, we just had to make a decision and do our best. We _hadn’t_ risked assessed that one in advance, but we did it anyway, because sometimes you have to… And if someone _had_ been crushed, when we did that… I’d have felt _really_ bad, obviously. But it wouldn’t mean I hadn’t _tried_ to be safe, just ‘cos someone got hurt. And, you know, if someone had yelled at me that it was irresponsible to bring a fourteen-year-old in the first place – I’d quite happily tear them a new one.” And that serious, protective look flashed up in his eyes, that he got sometimes when he talked about Peter “Because they don’t know Peter and they don’t get to say – but, yeah, my point is, why I thought I could yell about you about Scott Lang’s criminal record… you know what, this is really inarticulate, I’m sorry.” And he smiled a self-conscious little smile “See, this is what a 270 IQ gets you – a lot of robots and verbal diarrhoea.” And he swallowed, and took a little breath, and started again.

“I…always begrudged, how much people talked about your _intentions_. And, not just you, really – I always begrudged that _some people_ were judged by what they intended, and not what they actually _did_… which is something I’ve put on you, a bit too much… But, my real point is, I’ve only just realised that…_ I_ wasn’t judging you by what you’d done, either. I was judging you by _what happened_.”

And his eyes softened then, and suddenly Steve just ached to reach out to him.

“And, the few things that probably _were_ bad calls, in retrospect… I know they don’t make you reckless, in general, or mean you have bad judgement, or that you weren’t really trying to think of everything. Or, I should’ve known it, because I’ve been caught out on plenty of missions, when I really _had_ tried to think of everything. And I’ve worked with you for long enough that I should’ve given you that credit. And, it’s not like every safety feature in that suit isn’t there because of a time I _wished_ I’d thought of it… so, you know, there’s that.”

And then he left a little pause, as though to emphasise the separate importance of his next point.

“But, also… I’ve just realised that, just because something worked out badly, doesn’t mean it was that bad a call. Well, no, it’s worse than that really, because it’s not like I didn’t know that. I just… didn’t think about that, when I was mad at you. And I didn’t stop to think that… you probably made the same choices I would’ve, in a lot of those places, if I had the information you did… And then shit just happened, like it does. And. Anyway. I just wanted to say I’m sorry that I blamed you for a lot of that, and I’m sorry I turned some of those choices into a lot more than they were, is all…” Tony trailed off, blushing again.

And it took Steve a second or two, to catch his breath.

Because…Wow, there was a lot in that.

For a start – Tony _had_ just stumbled onto an anxiety that Steve had never been able to find the words for, before now. That sad little voice that had so often whispered in his head, _I tried my best…_ The one that would never speak any louder, because he _didn’t_ want to excuse his mistakes with his intentions… because he’d never been able to explain why he thought it mattered… Because he’d been raised in an era of stoic Generals and Politicians and Founding Members saying, _I take full responsibility, sir_, when standing in front of a clusterfuck of other people’s mistakes… Just acknowledging that for him was such a huge thing Tony had just done… and he probably didn’t even realise…

And, yeah, to be honest… Maybe Steve would’ve been bothered by that in the end, if Tony hadn’t addressed it. Even though he had so clearly understood Tony’s frustration with his choices, even though he knew some of them _had_ been bad choices, even though he’d never be _angry_ with Tony for thinking any of it…Yeah, he knew it would have _bothered_ him. That he’d have wanted to tell Tony what he’d really been thinking – good, bad and complicated – that he would have wanted Tony to know the truth of it-

Not for any specific _purpose_

He would have just wanted to be _seen_-

And _that_ was a fairly important revelation, too.

On top of which – Steve had literally just worked out that it wasn’t only _his_ issues that had caused an issue between them. That there _was_ that specific thing that Tony did… That thing he’d never quite been able to put his finger on before now, that _feeling_ of irritation that he’d never been sure where to aim. And suddenly, it was all so obvious…

And now that he had the words for it, he felt so overwhelmingly sorry for Tony… He actually loved him _more_, for this-

And, yes, it was still an issue.

And, actually, for the time being, it could all wait – mainly because he wanted so much to hold Tony right now.

“Come here.” Steve whispered, sliding down off of the couch so that he could put his arms around him, letting Tony rest his weight against his chest. Indulging in the closeness of him, for a few moments. “How much more do you have to do?” He asked, nodding at the experiments.

“Hm? Oh – _Hopefully,_ we’re done” Tony answered, lifting his head and pointing at the rack of vials “If I’m right, that is the finished serum. Six batches. But I’m going to run tests on two of them before we go, just to make sure they do what I’m expecting them to…”

“Just trying to be safe?” Steve smiled.

“Doing my best” Tony smiled back.

*

Zan had told them to be at the party by nine – although, from what they could tell from her activity on the computers, she probably wouldn’t be able to slip away until at least ten.

And they had arrived at the party just after seven thirty – just to be on the safe side, you understand.

_Nothing_ to do with the fact that they both knew they were going to a sex party, and actually, they’d just wanted to go…

The theme was… _obvious_, from the moment they walked in. As far as they could make out, there was no greater concentration of drugs in the air here – but according to the research files, the substances on offer at these bars all had a very specific effect. And, from the looks of things, they were _effective_… Whereas the rest of the building was just warming up to heavy petting and unbuttoned shirts, the air in this room was already full of urgent moaning and that scent of human bodies.

Steve felt Tony squeeze his hand as they walked in, and then felt his stomach tighten.

Amongst other things…

But he forced himself to do a quick scan of the room – which was, as Zan had promised, very dark. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust, enough to make out a large, rectangular room, with a grand marble bar running all the way around it. The staff behind it were all distorted into shadows by the very faint light that seemed to come from the floor beneath them. The rest of the room was dotted with various over-sized couches and semi-concealed booths, each with little side tables, on which a tiny lamp glowed very softly… and, in most cases, stacks of glasses stood next to a collection of sex toys, or tubes of lube…

Steve felt his breathing move a little higher in his chest as he and Tony made their way – _carefully_ – through the darkness… the unmistakable sound and rhythm of sex, all around them… none of it as exciting as the sweep of Tony’s thumb over the back of his hand…

And Steve felt a pure, simple exhilaration in that moment, just because he was doing something _different_. Something outside of all the standards and labels and expectations he’d ever set himself – but not actually contrary to any them. Nothing that he thought was immoral or dangerous or selfish; not now that he knew Tony wanted this, that Tony _loved_ him, that Tony knew everything now… That Tony was _his_. And Steve could just be _with_ him, in this moment that didn’t sum him up or represent his ideals or fit in any of the comics, because it wasn’t _for _any of that. It didn’t contradict any of it, but it wasn’t _about_ any of it, either – _this _was just because he wanted to. And that was nice. More than nice. That was…

Really _fun_.

Which didn’t sound like nearly grand enough a word – but still, it fit so well. This giddy rush of happiness, this in-the-moment excitement, this safe and simple experience of the new.

It was fun.

And Steve liked how he felt right now, which was…

God, he’d missed feeling like this.

Eventually they found four booths, in a X shape, so that each had two padded silk walls – with couches so wide, it was really more a bed with a little square cut out of one corner, for the table to slot into. The one they chose faced an empty couch, and behind that there was just the bar… which was probably as secluded as it was going to get.

Not that either of them really cared.

Neither of them even bothered to pretend they were trying to avoid this – that they weren’t both excited about it, completely separate from their professional reason for being here. Steve climbed onto the couch, and pulled Tony into kiss him, and Tony kept on kissing him, a little messily, as they crawled to the back of the booth. And then Steve came to a clumsy stop, sitting with his back against the corner, Tony leaning over him, _almost_ sitting in his lap. And, as they broke the kiss, their eyes met and-

God, it was just so much.

Tony was just… _so_ beautiful, and Steve loved him _so_ much – and he was just _so _happy-

And Tony was… amazing. Astounding. Wonderful. More than Steve had ever known, even in all those years of pining-

And Steve couldn’t believe just how much _better_ he felt, just… Like _everything_ was suddenly just that little bit easier, that much less lonely and, God, it made _all_ the difference-

And Tony had done so much of this for him, and helped him see so much of this for himself. The things he’d said and the way he’d made Steve feel and… all because Steve had let him… all because Steve had finally _said_… because, Tony had helped him to say…

_Hm_…

Steve suddenly remembered his earlier revelation. He realised how well it fit into everything he was thinking, right now… that he’d _like_ to say…

And he did think about ignoring it for the time being – just because he also _really_ wanted to kiss Tony again…

But not because he was _scared_ of saying it.

Not because he was worried it would send the wrong message.

Not because he thought it would ruin something.

And that was… nice…

Just knowing that… he _could_ say this thing, and Tony would listen, and would be understanding, and try to be fair, and not let it change everything that had happened… Thinking that, maybe, it _could_ change things for the better… being honest, _telling _Tony-

And, as the idea settled in, he realised… he _did_ want to say this, first.

“C’mere” He whispered, stroking his hand over Tony’s face and shifting his position, encouraging him, _lie down_. And Tony smiled so sweetly that it turned Steve’s stomach to water, and kissed him again, very softly, just once, before laying his head in Steve’s lap.

And, okay, Steve gave himself a few moments to indulge himself in that, before he said anything else. Just being able to run Tony’s hair over his fingers, and touch the side of his face, and watch him smile.

“I love you.” He whispered – and it _still_ felt like a little static shock, every time he said it. And every time he saw Tony smile when he said it. And every time Tony said,

“I love you too”

“And you know, I am so sorry for-”

“I know” Tony cut him off, kindly. “Actually, I think, as it turns out, you’re probably _more_ sorry than you have to be, so… got that wrong. My bad.” He joked. And then looked at Steve more seriously, and added “You don’t have to be sorry for the rest of your life Steve. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

And Steve smiled, because… well, this was the _very_ point he was building up to.

But he had to build up to it first.

And, anyway, it wasn’t like it wasn’t _also _true that-

“But maybe I _want_ to say it.” He smiled, knowingly. And Tony raised his eyebrows, and smiled back, _ah, touché._ And he waited for Steve to carry on. “And, I _am_ sorry, for a lot of the choices I made, and a lot of the things I said. And some of those things might’ve been me doing what I thought was best, but there _were_ also things I did because I was panicked and confused – and, yeah, those might be understandable reasons, or… but, you were right when you said people still have to apologise for that stuff. And I _want_ to – properly, without the drugs. I _want_ to say that I am sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents – not just sorry I hurt your feelings. Sorry I did it, because it was short-sighed and reckless and... wrong. And I _am_ sorry that I didn’t call you, as soon as Vienna happened. Yeah, there were probably a lot of things I was trying to weigh up in all that… but I was swayed far too much by what I wanted to happen, or _didn’t_ want to happen, and I’m sorry for that. And I was swayed far too much by the fact that I already hadn’t told you something I should have. I got myself into a position where it was so much harder to call you, before the airport, because there was so much I’d have to explain… and I’m sorry for _that._ I’m sorry I said that about you tearing The Avengers apart and… a lot of things I said because I was angry and scared or just plain insensitive, and I didn’t mean them.”

And, as an aside – Tony was right. This _did_ feel good. There was a power in this, and a genuinely cleansing feeling… It made everything seem less insurmountable, just saying it, like this…

But, back to the point,

“And, more than anything, actually, I’m sorry I didn’t say I was sorry sooner. Properly, I mean. And I’m most sorry for that because… The thing is, Tony, you’re right. I do find it hard. And… maybe it isn’t quite the same for me, and maybe there are reasons I find it hard and… Hearing you say that, it just, meant so much… and you were right, it’s probably hurt me as much as anyone. _But_, even though all of that is probably true… I know _you_ needed to hear it from me, and you’re right. I know the reason you didn’t think I cared is because you didn’t think I was sorry – and, in fairness, that isn’t the most stupid thing you could think, seeing as I didn’t know how to say it. And I know that, if I’d just said _this_ earlier, just this – if I’d said _this_ in that letter – then everything would’ve been so much better for both of us. So.”

And he looked at Tony, those big Bambi eyes so full of feeling, his lips _just_ parted…

“_And_… So, there’s this thing that I struggle to do…and, maybe, I struggle with that because of things I’ve been through, and things that have happened to me… but, ultimately, if I don’t work on that, it’s going to keep on hurting me – and it’s going to hurt you too, if I don’t _let_ you help me…” And Steve paused, just to gather his thoughts, still wanting to make sure he said this right even though he wasn’t scared of saying it wrong, anymore…

“You know… You should be able to say the things you aren’t sorry for, too.” Tony told him, softly – his voice uncharacteristically fragile. “And… I know I’ve probably made that as hard as saying you’re sorry. And it’s probably hard for a lot of the same reasons… But, you know, if you can’t say those things, it’ll end up being just as bad. And I am sorry if I’ve been… defensive, or judgemental or unsympathetic about that stuff before, and taken things personally, and… yeah. I just mean…”

And Steve smiled, because he couldn’t have hoped for a better set up for what he wanted to say.

But…_also_…

Since Tony had brought it up…

And, since Steve _did_ feel safe enough to speak now…

And, actually… as _this_ fit so nicely with the main point too, thinking about it…

Well, it was a deviation. An aside. But, why not?

“You know… Are there ever things you just want to _say_? Just because you want to explain, because you want people to know how you saw it, or what really happened, or whatever…” He asked, and Tony nodded, _yeah, of course,_ “I always had trouble with that. I don’t know if it’s… A forties thing, or a Captain America thing, or… I just always found myself asking, _why_ are you saying this? What purpose does it serve? And, yeah, if I thought the point I had to make was important, or I had to stand my ground, then I could say it – especially if it was a _principle_ like that, or if there was a specific goal I could keep in mind… But if it was a complicated thing, or I wasn’t sure – but, especially if it was a _feelings_ thing. If it was just some irrational, emotional reaction, if it was _just_ something I was feeling and I didn’t _need_ to say it… then it was hard…”

“Like what?” Tony asked, kindly. And Steve found himself taking a little breath before he answered… because it _was_ so much easier… but, still, he had to give himself a little push first.

“So… You know, when you asked me, if I knew… in the bunker…” Steve started, his voice a little quieter now… Partly, it was just because he was talking about _that_ moment, and he suspected that would always be hard… but, partly, it was because he was taking on a personal challenge, trying to say this out loud.

But he _was_ going to try.

And Tony just nodded softly, the slightest hint of confusion in his eyes, like he’d been vaguely surprised this was the route Steve had chosen… but not defensive, Steve noticed. Listening, properly. That was a huge help.

“And… God, this is… The thing is, you’d think that’d be a simple question. And I know _why_ you… I know that I _did_ just stand there and look at you, and I can’t imagine what you were thinking, and… The answer _is_ yes – I did know. And it _is_ true, that I _really_ didn’t want to tell you that, I didn’t _want_ that to be true, so I guess that… guilt, and, denial is part of it… But, it’s also true that… I didn’t know how to answer you. Because, when we’d just watched that tape, it was like you were asking, did you know _that_ happened, did you know it was Bucky – and _that_ should be a simple question, but it really wasn’t. I swear, at the time – I didn’t _know_, whether I knew it was him.”

And Tony’s frowned deepened just a little – which, was fair enough, at this stage of the explanation.

“I mean… We never actually talked about _how_ I found that out, did we?” And Tony shook his head. And Steve took a deep breath, and thought about how to explain it succinctly. “You remember me telling you about how Zola told me all about the Hydra occupation of SHIELD, with his little presentation, on his… digital tape brain?” He asked, and Tony nodded. “Well, when he was saying all that, Nat said something like, it isn’t possible, SHIELD would’ve stopped you doing this. And _he_ said, ‘accidents will happen’. And there was an image of your dad – the newspaper headline, the day after he died. Just a flash, _so_ quickly – and then an even _quicker_ flash, of this shadowy figure in a cap, with a gun, and _maybe_ a metal arm… I _still_ don’t know if I actually saw that…”

And as he was talking, he could feel Tony’s back getting stiffer – until, eventually, he sat up, his eyes still fixed on Steve. Like he was being drawn into what Steve was saying. And Steve felt the slightest flutter of the old anxiety then… a worry that he was about to say something wrong, a memory of that instinct to shut up…

But it was just an echo now. A shadow of what it had been. Nowhere near strong enough to over-ride how much he’d recently learned.

“And… You ever have that thing, where sometimes something happens and you realise – I _did_ know that. But, maybe you didn’t know you knew that? Or, now that you know you know it, you can’t remember whether you knew you knew it – see, this is what I mean about it being hard to say. I just… I remember, seriously thinking, that… maybe that wasn’t even what Zola was saying? Maybe he _was_ just saying, _well, Howard might’ve stopped us if he hadn’t had a car crash_… which, okay, is stupid, but I remember thinking it. Or, you know, I don’t _know_ Bucky did it – I don’t know that image _was_ Bucky, or what Zola was even inferring. I remember wondering if Zola just made the whole thing up… And… You know, it’s _one_ of the reasons it was so hard to tell you. Just because I felt like all I could say was that a Hydra thug _said_ your parents were murdered, and _implied_ that Bucky did it… And I had no proof, and no answers for you…”

By now Tony was looking at him so intensely that he was beginning to get a _little_ nervous…

“And then, when you asked me if I knew… Then I realised, of course I did. That Zola had literally told me that your parents had been murdered, and shown me a fucking picture of Bucky – just in case I hadn’t put two and two together, what with Bucky being Hydra’s fist, or whatever it was… And it was more than that, really. It was this horrible _feeling_ that… yeah, I did know that. That I’d been lying to myself this whole time, that I had thought it so many times… and then I really couldn’t remember if it ever hadn’t been obvious – so, I couldn’t say to you I didn’t know… And I couldn’t say I _sort of_ knew. I just, couldn’t explain that – and, like I say, I didn’t know _why_ I’d be saying it anyway, because it’s not an excuse, and it’s probably only my own short sightedness and denial that stopped it being obvious in the first place-”

“I thought you’d already seen that tape” Tony cut in, his voice a little dazed.

…Wait.

“…What?”

“Or, you know, that you’d read the mission report – I thought you _knew_.” Tony said… almost smiling, now.

“What – _no_.” Steve corrected, suddenly aghast. “No, God, Tony – if I’d seen that tape before, of course I would’ve…” He could hardly finish, he was so shocked by that thought.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, of course you would…” Tony whispered, like he was suddenly afraid his voice would crack “But then… I hit play on that tape, and it was like you already knew what it was – and then when I asked you if you knew, you just said… yes, so, I thought… you just… knew…”

Well.

That body blow had come from nowhere.

And, thinking about it… Steve didn’t know what he thought Tony _had_ thought… seeing as he could hardly have expected Tony to have guessed all that…

But he’d never imagined that it’d come out like…

That Tony would’ve thought…

But why wouldn’t he have thought that?

And, oh, Tony’s hurt made even _more_ sense now-

“I wish you had told me that.” Tony breathed.

“Oh, God, Tony, I’m sorry-”

“No, I mean…” Tony stopped him, kindly “I mean I’m glad you told me that, is all.”

“…I just… Didn’t want to sound like I was rewriting history, or making excuses, and… it just all sounds so ridiculous, and it’s not like I think that makes it better or like I shouldn’t have to say sorry so I just thought… why try to-”

“No, you’re right.” Tony whispered “It does matter. It matters anyway. I’m glad you said.”

And Steve was flooded with such a sense of relief, hearing Tony say that. A sudden feeling of rightness. Balance.

And then he remembered the other thing he wanted to balance. And, now, he felt more sure of it than he ever had. Almost excited to say it, thinking that maybe he could achieve that same rightness in an even more fundamental way.

“You know how you _want_ to help me, with all this?” Steve whispered, taking Tony by the hand and pulling him closer.

“With everything” Tony whispered back.

“And, you know how, you really don’t blame me for finding it hard to apologise… But you still know I have to?” Steve added… And Tony had clearly recognised the tone Steve was using, the fact that he was building to something here… so, he stilled just slightly, and he simply nodded, and waited.

And Steve took another little breath, and squeezed Tony’s hand.

“You… Make it hard, for me to be nice to you, sometimes.” Steve started, carefully, watching Tony’s face – so far, just the faintest hint of surprise… “It’s like you don’t know what to do with a genuine compliment, or you’re scared of actually valuing someone else’s opinion of you, or you’re wary of trusting a kindness… and, all of that breaks my heart. To think you’ve been hurt that much, and hounded that much, and attacked and put down that much… I don’t blame you, for this. Partly, I blame me for this, for whatever part I played in making you feel like-”

“No, Steve-”

“But the thing is, Tony.” Steve carried on, pointedly, waiting until Tony stilled again before he went onto his next point.

“You are just… So clever.” Steve sighed, with a smile. “At everything. Including defending yourself from a world that’s always treated you unfairly, and held you to a different standard – and abused your trust, over and over again. And it’s like… No one ever says a nice thing about you without an ulterior motive, so you don’t trust those things, and you’ve learned to deflect them _so_ expertly… Or, everyone is always ready to say something mean about you, for no reason, so you’re always in there first, saying something before they do, or cutting yourself off from people in advance, and…”

And Steve could see that same feeling in Tony’s eyes, as had overwhelmed him when Tony said _You don’t say sorry because people won’t let you, right_?

“And the fact is I’m just not smart enough to beat you at that game” Steve told him, with a soft little laugh “I just… Today, I tried to tell you I thought you were smart. And first you put yourself down, to distract me. Then you bigged _yourself_ up, in the hope it’d stop me doing it. Then you tried to steer the conversation onto how smart Bruce was – and, even if I could keep up with all that, _then_ you switch to talking about how smart you think _I _am… and all just so smoothly. Like that’s what we were talking about anyway…” And he gave his head a little shake – somewhere in all this, there was a genuine admiration for the skill it took Tony to do all this. “You know – and I know this sounds… But I even love you _for_ that. Or – no, _specifically_… I love you for the fact that you _never_ stop trying, and you never let anyone beat you, or bully you, or limit you – and not _even _because you don’t care what anyone thinks. It _does _hurt you, and you step up to it anyway, every time, just because you think it’s right… And for the fact that you are so much _kinder_, and so much _braver_, and even so much smarter than anyone thinks you are – that you keep trying to get even better, even when you know people are going to think the worst of you anyway, and that’s a genuine goodness that I’m in awe of, sometimes-”

“Steve” Tony cut him off, his voice barely a whisper now, his eyes shining with a strength of feeling that Steve hadn’t seen since that bunker.

But it was a different feeling. A good feeling.

“You know this is exactly what I’m talking about, right?” Steve smiled, softly. And Tony closed his eyes, and pinched his lips, like he wasn’t sure whether he was biting back a smile or a sob. And Steve leant in just slightly, and put his hand to the side of Tony’s face – and Tony’s eyes flitted up to meet his for just longer than a second, like he’d really tried to hold Steve’s gaze, but it just burned too much. And Steve smiled, and shuffled forward, and gently guided Tony’s head to lie on his shoulder-

Because he knew Tony just didn’t know what to do with his face, right now.

And after all these years of trying to ‘work Tony out’ and figure out which boxes he fit and trying to fit all of Tony’s incomprehensible words and impossible actions into some sort of system … after all that time thinking through the thousands of things Tony _could_ have been thinking… Now, Steve looked at him and he felt like he _understood_.

Steve knew so much of the difficulty Tony had with this was not knowing how to react to it – well, he knew it _now_, at least. So, he did his best to make it that bit easier, even while he pushed on with this thing he knew Tony would find it hard to listen to. This thing he knew he had to do.

“The world _has_ been unfair to you, Tony” Steve spoke softly, into his hair “And it _should_ only ever have treated you kindly, because you _are_ the best our world has to offer, and if it’s not going to be kind to you, then we should all be fucked, really. And, if the way you’ve dealt with that is by becoming an expert at invisibly defending yourself, while you just keep trying anyway – then you should probably be proud, in a way.” And he laughed softly, and he squeezed Tony’s shoulders…

“…But.”

And Jesus, Tony’ shoulders actually _relaxed_ at that. Like he really was relieved that they might’ve finally reached the criticism potion of this… And Steve pulled his arms around him tighter and breathed him in before he carried on,

“You are just _so_ good at… protecting yourself, from… affection, and support and, just… everything I _want_ to give you, is the thing.” Steve sighed. “I _want_ to be nice to you, and I want to be there for you, and help you, and… You know, I am sorry, that I bought into this, before. That I never thought about whether I’d hurt your feelings, because you were just so good pretending that you were… above all that. I’m sorry that I never thought about you being scared, or lonely, because you always _seemed_ so… I’m sorry that I believed you had _all_ this confidence, just because you are so good at playing that role… But you _are_ so good at that, Tony.”

And he leant back to look at Tony – because _now_ it was important he looked at Tony.

“So much quicker and more subtle than anyone realises. It’s the way you pick which compliments you’re going to pay yourself, and which putdowns you’re going to leap in with, and how you’re going to steer each conversation. Its all the tiny little elements of it, and I just – you can’t tell me that you feel unloved, and then the moment I try to fix that, throw your hands up and say, _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, you don’t have to really – here are some things I’m sorry about_. And I see you, just keep reaching out to people, and people _not _meeting you halfway, and how much that _does _hurt you… well, I see it now. But then, if I do try reaching back it’s like… some alien creature you’ve never seen before and you just, _retreat_ from it…”

And he made Tony meet his eye. There was a self-aware, _almost_ amused expression, somewhere under that discomfort. _I’m in this picture, and I don’t like it…_ But he met Steve’s eye, and he kept it…bravely.

“And you can’t keep… Setting yourself apart like that. Even though I know _why_ you do it, and I don’t mean… But, at the end of the day, it _is_ unfair, to you and to me. You can’t tell me you want to help me and support me and understand me, and then not _let_ me do the same, martyr yourself and ask me to play along with this idea you’ve talked yourself into, that you don’t _deserve…_” And Steve had to stop, and catch his breath, before he finished.

“You’ve got to let me be _in_ this, Tony. We have to be together in this. Because… I don’t _want_ to be the person who get’s helped and supported and understood, I don’t want to be a… I want to be your boyfriend. I want… I just want to be nice to you.”

And Tony’s voice finally cracked, and he was forced to look away as that one tear slid slowly down his face… And Steve let his forehead rest against Tony’s, one arm snaking tight around his waist.

A little voice whispered in Steve’s head, softer and kinder than his internal monologue had ever been, _enough now._

So Steve just let Tony melt into him, not making Tony look at him again, not making Tony answer him-

Just kissing him, very softly.

*

Tony felt like he’d been _gutted_.

Like, from _absolutely nowhere_, Steve had just reached into the very deepest part of him, and grabbed hold of something so deeply rooted it was part of his genetic make-up…A perspective and a defence that were so well established, it was like the rest of him had been built on those foundations. This one _issue_ had crawled its way into everything else since Tony was a kid, like the roots of some poisonous weed that Tony had never been able to pull free because then everything else would crumble-

And then Steve had just-

And, yeah, Tony was _shocked_, for a start.

And it _did_ hurt. At the very least, it was searingly uncomfortable, from the seconds Tony realised where Steve was going with it.

And there _was_ a little instinct, immediate and from his very subconscious – _woah, hang on, we’re helping you with your issues, not mine-_

And then, of course, he realised… That was exactly what Steve was talking about…

Steve just… _said_ it.

And Tony _hadn’t_ known what to do with his face – or his head, or his heart. There was just no way to process the hundreds of thousands of things that Steve had just unearthed, no way to rethink his whole entire life as quickly as Steve was just laying it all out for him. He couldn’t place or name or make sense of any of the emotions that were suddenly welling up in him-

But they welled up in him anyway. Surged up in him, like floodwater. Crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave, something he barely had time to panic about before he _had_ to accept them, they’d just hit him, he was just-

_Better_.

Oh, God, it _did_ feel better, with this thing pulled free,

It _was_ good, to hear Steve say these things,

To _feel_ Steve say them,

To _feel_… loved, and safe, and accepted and- God, it was like Steve had just snuck up on him and smothered him with it, before he’d had a chance to-

Jesus, this was terrifying.

And so… _intimate_ a feeling, it was almost sharp. It seemed _obscene_, somehow, for Steve to just say these things, without any filter or humour or _actual _criticism to take the edge off.

Tony had never felt this naked.

And he’d never felt _good_ like this.

This specific, pure, heartfelt good… _this_ was just… completely new.

And when Steve kissed him, it was like Tony’s entire body just surrendered to it. An immediate, physical response, like some primal reflex that he’d not used in so long… but was still so basically, humanly _natural_.

In an instant, there was no resistance in Tony’s body. It was like every muscle, every _cell_, had just relaxed at once – for a split second, he worried he was actually fainting-

_It’s okay_

_Steve will catch me_

And Steve _did_ catch him – he put those impossible arms around him, and held him flush against that strong, solid chest, and _kissed_ him.

And Tony let Steve kiss him. He let Steve’s lips gently tease his mouth open, he let his body melt against Steve… He let himself have this-

And then he felt Steve’s hand on the side of his face, strong and soft and… _safe_. And it confused all of Tony’s senses, how something that tender could be that intense, how it could be so gentle and yet so _much_-

He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his arms suddenly throwing themselves around Steve’s neck with no input whatsoever from his head.

“You _do_ matter, Tony” Steve whispered, his voice rougher and more urgent now, “You _are_ good enough, you’re so much more than that, and I _want_ to make you happy. You _do_ deserve that.”

And there were still all those voices in Tony’s head. At least forty years of nasty, judgemental voices, and they all still knew their cues, they knew what they were meant to leap in with now… But, oh, they were all consumed by doubt, now, and second guessing each other and arguing with themselves… they didn’t fit anymore, they couldn’t argue back… until all of that had just faded into a nonsensical noise…

Until he could finally hear that little voice whispering, over the top of it.

That little voice that might well have been whispering since he was a child… that voice he hadn’t heard, since then.

_…Really? You mean it?_

And, God, the only reason Tony didn’t say that out loud was because he _couldn’t _speak. He could barely breathe, he-

He kissed Steve again. And this time it _wasn’t_ to stop Steve from talking or to try and distract him, or anything like that. It was just because Tony didn’t know what else to do with himself, what else to do with this feeling-

And then Steve grabbed him by the hips, lifting him, or carrying him – _holding_ him, until he could lay him on his back, still on top of him, his body pressed close.

Tony heard himself whimper, just as Steve kissed him again – his whole body pressed over him now, _covering_ him.

_So strong. So-_

And then he felt Steve’s fingers, flitting quickly down the line of buttons of the front of his shirt. The sudden thrill of air on his chest – and then the heat of Steve’s palm, pressed against his skin. And he sat up enough to let Steve run his hands over his shoulders, pushing his shirt down over his arms –

He just _responded_.

There were no conscious thoughts in his head, anymore. No words, no plans, no real awareness of what he was going to do next – he just _did_. He found himself lifting his arms, arching his back, just helping Steve to undress him.

It was like…being a body snatcher in his own body, like he was _just_ feeling all of these things, like he was suddenly hyper aware of every sensation-

He moaned, _loudly_, when Steve kissed his neck. It sent shivers all the way through him; it made him want to curl in on himself with the intensity of it. And then Steve kissed him again, soft and deep, just under his ear, and his throat again, and then the curve where his neck met his shoulder… Tony just turned to water, his arms falling uselessly against the bed as Steve kissed his chest, and his arms. Steve’s hands caressed firmly over Tony’s ribs, and then his hips – and then suddenly they were on Tony’s belt, and then his zipper, and then one hand was sliding under the waistband of his underwear.

“Oh, Jesus-fuck, I, _nugh”_ Tony barked, as Steve wrapped his fingers around his cock, his hips bucking from under him so sharply that it jolted his spine. And then he felt the slow drag of Steve’s palm over the length of him, and then the electric shock of his thumb running roughly over the head of his cock… and then, almost immediately, that low, urgent ache – _again_.

But when Tony opened his mouth to say it, he could only whimper – and then cry out sharply, as Steve did it again anyway. The same strong, slow stroke, the same sudden spike of pleasure – the same need.

Tony tried to say _please_, _Steve_, _God_, _more_ – and it all just came out as a babbled collection of whimpered sounds.

And then a nakedly _anguished_ moan, as Steve took his hand away.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby” Steve soothed, already tugging the rest of Tony’s clothes down over his legs. And Tony writhed desperately, in a not-especially-coordinated attempt to help Steve with this, letting Steve’s voice echo in his head, hot and low and protective, _shh, it’s okay baby_…

When Steve leaned over him, Tony didn’t bother working out that he was reaching for the side table. He didn’t bother asking himself _what_ Steve was doing – there was just Steve’s chest, right there, and this increasingly frantic _need_ to touch-

Tony grabbed at Steve’s t-shirt, his fingers curling into the fabric. And Steve stopped, and then sat back and smiled – and shrugged his way free of his shirt. And Tony just put his hands on him. There was no command from his brain, no connecting processes… Just that beautiful body, and that desperate desire to touch it, and then that perfect skin under Tony’s palms… Tony ran his hands over every inch of him, indulging in him in the most basic way. And when Steve went back to reaching over his head, Tony took the opportunity to touch more of him, grabbing at his ass before it apparently occurred to him to unbutton Steve’s jeans and tug them over his hips-

“Ever the opportunist” Steve grinned, as he shuffled back over Tony – forcing him to break his grip before he’d finished stripping him. But then Steve kissed him, rough and hard and desperate now, and Tony forgot all about his previous task. He put all his focus into kissing Steve back, arching his hips up into that promise of friction, just wanting more of him.

When Steve broke away this time, Tony didn’t have the oxygen to protest. He could only gasp, and keep trying to writhe up against him, even as Steve sat up completely, kneeling between his legs and looking down over him… Tony felt his heart stall in his chest, even _this_ frenetic excitement hiccupping to a brief stop in his veins under the sheer intensity of that look-

And then Steve’s hands, pushing his thighs apart, and the firm press of his fingertips into the sensitive skin at the very top of his legs – and that excitement kicked into gear again, twice as hard now.

Tony moaned, and let his head fall back against the couch, opening his legs and arching his back and trying desperately to remember the word for please – and then he felt a little shift in the mattress beneath him, and heard a familiar little _snick_-ing sound, and looked up to see Steve pouring lube over his own fingers-

Tony’s hips bucked again, his cock pulsing hot against his stomach-

Somewhere, it occurred to Tony that they were_ in a bar._

That he had no idea if the couch across from them was still empty, if _anyone_ was watching them

That Steve was about to fuck him right here-

And then he felt Steve’s fingers push inside him – and he forgot _where_ the fuck they were.

“Oh, Steve, fuck, _please_” Tony begged, trying to wriggle lower as Steve worked two fingers deeper into him, trying to chase that low, aching pleasure that was starting to roll through him – so good, but, oh, not enough- “Please, please- _ah!_” He felt Steve’s fingers hit his prostate, every nerve in his body lighting up, and then every sensation being dragged down through him, concentrating in his hips, this compulsive, wonderful hunger for more-

Steve pushed into him again, hard and sharp, the second shock running up Tony’s spine while he was still reeling from the first-

And then _again, _and _again_, until it was like Tony’s whole body was alight with a constant current of sensation… that ache growing sharper and more urgent with every push and twist of Steve’s fingers. He felt Steve push a third finger into him, that little edge of extra stretch and burn crawling up inside him, oh, so good, but still not enough,

“Please fuck me Steve, please, I want you to fuck me, I want you, please, please”

It just broke out of him, a constant stream of words just falling over his lips in between frantic gasps, high-pitched and pleading.

And he felt Steve’s rhythm stutter just slightly – his fingers still working Tony open as his other hand pulled his cock free of his jeans-

And then a sudden, _awful_ emptiness, as Steve pulled out of him

The friction of denim on the inside of his thighs – the thrill of thinking that Steve hadn’t even finished getting undressed.

And then that searing, stretching pressure of Steve pushing his cock inside him. That burning, almost-painful pleasure of Steve forcing him open, slowly filling him up. Tony choked off a moan, his breath catching in throat as his Steve finally filled him completely, his cock pressing up against that sweet spot inside him, Tony’s whole body now throbbing in sharp desperation, _just a little more, just-_

“_please_” Tony whimpered, weakly, his eyes falling closed again-

And then Steve thrust into him, _hard_.

And, God, how he didn’t come _immediately_-

That pleasure just crashed through him like a wave, surging up along his back all the way to his shoulders. His cock burned now, leaking steadily against his skin. And just as his head stopped spinning, Steve thrust into him again, sharper and shallower and harder, and again, sending one wave of sensation crashing straight into another. And then Steve slid one hand over the curve of Tony’s hips, over his thighs, and then tugging at his balls – sending a sudden spark of pleasure deep inside him-

“Oh, God, fuck Steve, I’ll come, if you, I can’t-” Tony pleaded, bucking up against him anyway, completely powerless against this now.

“I want you to” Steve purred, rolling his hips into Tony as he shifted to lie over the top of him. And Tony carried on babbling swear words and endearments and promises and pleas, as his wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist and grabbed mindlessly at his back-

And then Steve curled one hand under Tony’s shoulder, and gripped Tony’s hip with the other, and started fucking into him fast, and deep, and _hard._

“Oh, God, Oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck-” Tony panted, his voice getting higher and tighter and more desperate as that feeling inside him built and sharpened and,

_Oh, God, yes, there, that-_

“Oh, Fuck, _Tony_” Steve groaned, deep in his chest, his fingers digging into his skin-

And, Fuck, the _sound_ of it-

The _need_ in it-

And then there was that wave of pleasure that just kept crashing,

That sharp peak of sensation, that sudden rush of release-

Tony grabbed the back of Steve’s hair, burying his head into Steve’s neck and moaning his name as he came, and came, and came…

“Oh, fuck, you’re _beautiful_” Steve hissed, desperately, _trying_ to slow down, trying to let Tony breathe… Still rocking into him, urgently, kissing the side of his face messily, “You’re beautiful when you come”

“_Steve_” Tony breathed, just entirely overwhelmed, his whole body still trembling with the force of his climax, his mind completely blown by just how much this all was

“You’re _perfect_” Steve whispered, giving in and thrusting into him again – another wave of pleasure rolling through Tony, hot and slow now, “You’re _everything, _You, oh-”

And Tony felt him tense, his grip tightening as he buried himself into Tony, making _the_ most wonderful sound as he came.

And then, for a few moments, there was just the feeling of Steve’s body, pressed close against him.

The heat of Steve breathing against his neck.

The pulse of aftershocks running through him, the sense of calm and relief and happiness that was swelling up in their aftermath

The gentle, earnest whisper,

_I love you. I love you so much._

And Tony didn’t even know which one of them was saying it, at first. It took a good few minutes for any of his senses to come back to him. At least enough to recognise…

Both of them.

It was both of them.


	15. Chapter 15

By nine o clock, they were both _basically_ dressed again. Tony’s shirt was only half buttoned, and Steve had no idea where his shoes were… but close enough.

Steve was lying on his back, with Tony curled up on his chest, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder. Steve had one arm wrapped around Tony’s waist, and the other hand – for the moment – playing idly with his hair. They’d been lying like this for maybe half an hour, quietly, while Steve let his fingers trace over Tony’s arms, touched his face, kissed his forehead… And Tony sighed happily, and snuggled closer to him, and pressed soft, slow kisses to his neck…

“I really hope Zan has been distracted by something” Tony murmured eventually, his voice almost slurring, it was so warm and soft and happy. And Steve smiled into his hair, and hummed an agreement…

And then he thought about it

“No, maybe not” He grinned. “Maybe I just can’t wait to get this thing done with, so that we can go home, and I _can_ just lie with you like this, and not have to hope anyone get’s distracted…” And as he was saying it, he was thinking about the reality of that, the fact that this wasn’t a wonderful one-off event or an amazing experience he had to make the most of… this was just his life now… And he felt Tony wriggle happily, with that same excited joy that was making his own toes curl-

And then Tony lifted his head and smiled at Steve, his eyes all soft and sleepy-

Steve was just so soaked through with love for him, he-

“They _can’t_ measure your IQ, right?” Tony observed, in that friendly, intrigued tone he used sometimes. It took Steve a second to even hear the question over the haze of his own happiness, and when he did, he just answered it.

“Something like that” He thought aloud, going back nearly ten years to something he’d not really been listening to in the first place “Fury said something about the serum making my intellect ‘more functional’ as opposed to ‘just better’… or something… To be honest, I think I’d been out of the ice a week when he tried explaining that, and I didn’t really care…”

“Ha. What he _means_ is that you can work out some of those things faster than the computer can” Tony smiled, laying his head down again. “I mean, SHIELD had a lot of different tests they used, but most of it comes down to problem solving. And, you know, if the person you’re testing just solves the problem the second you show it to him, and if the solution he comes up with is smarter than the computer simulation…” He mused. And then, in the same interested, conversational tone, he added “But, on the other hand, it turns out that all either of us have ever wanted was each other, and it took us seven years to solve that puzzle – so, I don’t know, maybe, actually, we’re both morons.”

And Steve laughed. _It’s funny ‘cos it’s true…_

“Well, we worked it out eventually…” He smiled.

“Hm.” Tony smiled back, and then just drifted on to “So, in, like, 2049, when we’re celebrating our thirtieth anniversary, and someone’s kid asks us how we got together in the first place…” And he sat up again, to look at Steve when he asked, quite seriously “Where do you want to lie and say we were?”

And, just to punctuate his point, someone on a nearby couch chose that exact moment to start yelling ‘_fuck me daddy’_ in a very loud voice.

Steve _really_ laughed then. A proper, from his stomach laugh that he couldn’t contain… and then couldn’t control, as that idea got even _sillier_, the more he thought about it… And then Tony started giggling, which really didn’t help-

Something knocked into the side table with a sharp, _deliberate_ kick.

The both sat up immediately, their laughter entirely forgotten as they focused on the short, slight figure in the shadows – and then the gap where she had been.

They shared a glance, _ok, here we go._

Quietly, and as quickly as they could, they climbed up and made their way to the back of the room.

“On the topic of me being a moron.” Steve whispered, carefully sidestepping an unidentified dark patch on the carpet “Turns out that shoes _generally_ aren’t necessary… but they probably are at an orgy.”

He heard Tony snort a laugh, and felt him squeeze his hand a little tighter.

Thankfully, he managed to avoid stepping in anything unpleasant as they crept those final few feet, between a cluster of booths, to far left corner of the room. From here they could see there was actually a gap, between the bar running along the left-hand wall, and the bar running along the back – a narrow walkway that would’ve been entirely invisible, if the little door there hadn’t been open a crack, letting just enough light leak through…

Steve did a quick scan of the surroundings. The area at the end of both bars seemed to be where the spare crates and empty boxes got thrown, which was good – meant that the bartenders never came up to the very far end, at least… He did a quick tally of the customers waiting to be served, a brief assessment of the system each server seemed to be using, to work their way through the queue… He glanced at Tony and signalled, silently, _get ready to go when I do._

He waited until the servers had made their way further down the bar. Watched until each of them was fully distracted. Picked his moment, tugged Tony’s hand, and ran.

They slipped between the bars and pushed through the door – a calculated risk. There was more chance of them being caught if they stopped to listen, than if they took the chance and went right in.

They found a short, bare-looking hallway, with three doors on each side – and Zan, standing impatiently, in the middle of it. She gave them a sharp nod, and turned on her heel, striding purposefully toward the door furthest from them, on the right. Steve and Tony glanced at each other briefly, and then at their surroundings, before they followed her.

They’d barely made it into the room before Zan snapped the door shut behind them, both falling into combat stance immediately – an instinct triggered whenever they were closed into any room. But they both relaxed when they realised, they really were just in an empty office. A sad, functional little space, with a standard office desk and a computer, and a tall filing cabinet gathering dust in the corner.

Steve turned to face Zan, who was standing nervously with her back pressed to the door.

“This is Franciszek’s office, on this floor” She spoke quickly, not looking either of them in the eye “He’ll come back here once or twice, while he’s here tonight – or, I don’t know if you can get him to come back here. From here on out, it’s on you.” There was a sudden edge on her voice when she said that. But still, she didn’t look at them. “But no one will bother you here, and I did my best to cut the security tapes, so that’s all I can do.”

“So, you said you can show us how to make a portal?” Tony reminded her.

She looked at him then.

“And, when you’ve spoken to Franciszek you just use it to send him straight to earth, right?” She clarified, carefully.

“Why?” Steve frowned at her, trying to sound concerned. Trying to think of what he would be thinking, if he didn’t already know why Zan was nervous “Is it dangerous?”

“Not if you use it right.” She answered, almost dismissively “I just mean – you have to promise me, you won’t leave him _here_, once you’ve questioned him.”

“We promise” Tony assured, softly “As long as this thing works, he’s out of here.”

But there was still a hesitation in her. An electricity in the pause she left…too long…

“They lie, you know” She added eventually, her voice quieter. “They manipulate, and they mislead, and they-”

“We know.” Steve sighed, sadly. “We’re from there, remember?”

“So, what use will it be? Anything he tells you?” She asked, almost whispering now.

“Because I’m not going to be relying on him to _tell_ me what this secret project is” Tony told her, confidently. “I’m going to be getting him to tell me what I need to know, to work it out for myself.”

_…Just subtly assuring her that the ‘special project’ is the focus._

“And, look – I’m not an expert on Anni-Varian social interaction, maybe if you don’t have shame, you don’t have lies, or whatever” Tony carried on, breezily, “But, on human beings, you’re just going to have to trust me. I know it probably seems an irrational mess of contradictions, to you – and it is – but this is what I do. So, since I’m not telling you how your guys think, don’t tell me how my guys talk, okay?”

And, of course, on the surface, that came over as very arrogant, and maybe just a touch rude.

But, just under that, there was that practiced charm, the very particular choice of tone and expression and pace that made him seem sort of likeable anyway.

And then, the specific choice of argument, the flow of words and the internal logic that led you to believe he’d really thought about this – that, underneath his likeable egotism, there was almost certainly a competence and a desire to do good…

_…and it’s all just a subtle way of telling Zan, _

_ But I couldn’t catch you out_

_ I’m not even trying to catch you out_

_ Look at me, I think I’m so smart, I think I know everything – but you know better than me, don’t you?_

_ You can risk trying to play me_

_ Go on – you want to…_

Steve actually had to bite back a smile.

And, _obviously_, Zan bought it. She straightened slightly, and nodded, and took a chunky iron bar out of her pocket, about the size of a remote control. She walked over to Tony, and showed him the little screen on the front of it as she told him,

“You have to enter the co-ordinates each time…” And pointed to where you type the numbers in.

And Steve watched her explain it – or, rather, he watched Tony’s face as she explained it, the way he ran ahead with a thousand more interesting questions, while she was relaying her basic instructions. Steve smiled at the way Tony just knew the exact co-ordinates for the compound conference room – but probably _not_ the phone number for it. He smiled at the way Tony’s face lit up when Zan finally handed it to him, the child-like joy that always flashed up in his eyes when he was given a new toy to play with...

“So, you want to test it?” Zan confirmed, anxiously.

“Well, if I have this wrong, and we can’t get Franciszek out of here once we’ve questioned him, I don’t suppose we’ll be able to come and find you for help _then_?” Tony reminded her, and she sighed, defeated.

“Okay, fine.” She huffed, and then pointed impatiently at the device in his hand. “So, enter the co-ordinates then.”

And Tony did.

“Hold the light over the floor, wait for the beep, press the button on the end there, and then drop it down on the floor…” She carried on narrating, even though Tony was doing it all ahead of her instructions.

Meanwhile, Steve was slowly, _subtly_, sidestepping away from them… to give them more room…

…To make sure he was between Zan and the door, when this happened.

And then there was a second little beep, as an ominous _gap_ just opened in the air… the same eerie, silent, _sparkle-less_ portal that had led them here… and on the other side of it, the compound conference room, just… sitting there.

Steve found himself blinking at it, his mind still scrabbling to make sense of this impossibility even as he assured himself it was real… It was even stranger, seeing it in a confined little space like this. Like an optical illusion brought to life.

And then he heard Tony speak, in an entirely different tone.

“FRIDAY: alert all Avengers to come to the conference room immediately, we have an imminent threat”

And the reply seemed to come from so nearby, and still so far away.

“Right Boss.”

And then Tony pressed his foot to the top of the little device, like he’d been told to, and the portal just disappeared – like a projected image when the power is cut.

“And I have this for you.” Zan added quickly, already thrusting her hand into her pocket to retrieve a little spray bottle, like a miniature perfume dispenser. She brandished it at Tony, eagerly, like her desire to get out of the room was growing the closer she got to the end of this.

“What’s this?” Tony asked, taking it, gingerly

_…he doesn’t like to be handed things_, Steve thought – protectively.

“Spray it in his face, it’ll make him scared of you” She summarised “Works for maybe ten minutes at a time.”

And Tony just nodded, and slipped it into his pocket…

Steve recognised his cue, and planted his feet more firmly on the floor, subtly broadening his shoulders.

Zan turned around, clearly keen to get out of there – and found Steve standing so _deliberately_ in her way.

Steve saw her recognise that he wasn’t going to let her leave.

He saw that flash of panic, and the brief attempt to think of a way out

The way her eyes darted under his arm, to the handle of a door she couldn’t reach-

And then a gasp of outraged shock, as Tony jabbed a syringe into her neck.

Tony leapt back immediately, knowing that Zan would instinctively swing around to face him. As soon as she had her back to him, Steve stepped forward and grabbed her by the arms, pinning them behind her while Tony kicked the office chair out into the middle of the room.

“What the hell are you doing? Why did you turn on me? What did you just drug me with? How did you do that?” Zan babbled suddenly, a string of sound with no gaps in the middle – cut short when Steve forced her to sit on the office chair with a bump.

“This is so unfair, this really _isn’t_ my fault – I’m the _only_ one who’s trying to stop any of this from happening, and _I’m_ the one you’re going to – this is all my Mum’s fault! My Mum, and my Dad, and my idiot brother – and the humans! They _are_ evil you know – my Dad isn’t evil, he’s just- and I did try to – but you don’t understand what it’s like, it’s not like I had anywhere else to go, and he’s my _Dad_, and-”

And so it went on.

An increasingly nonsensical diatribe about her family and her planet and her apparently venomous hatred for all humans… And Steve bit his lip, and told himself not to interrupt.

_Tony said this was how it would happen._

Tony had warned him that, for a minute or two, Zan was likely to just break down into a stream of consciousness – and they should let her. That, however infuriating and time consuming it seemed, it would make the rest of the interrogation run more smoothly if they let her get this out of her system first.

So, even though it _was_ infuriating, and even though it seemed to go on for longer than a few minutes, Steve shut up and let her ramble. He trusted Tony.

And, sure enough – just like Tony said – after a while, she seemed to run out of words. Eventually, she just looked up at him, her whole body still alive with a desire, a _compulsion_ to speak – but no more thoughts at the front of her head to grab at. She was almost anxious when she demanded.

“What, what are you doing? What do you want?”

And Steve glanced over at Tony, and watched him take a little USB pen out of his pocket, and press a button on the side – a button Steve knew meant ‘_record’_. Then Tony sighed, very calmly.

“So, is slavery normal on Anni-Vara?”

“_No_” Zan spat back bitterly. “Not like your planet, where the whole economy is built on-”

“But you _do_ have slaves, working in your basement” Tony cut her off this time, his tone cool and professional. “So, who enslaved them?”

“We didn’t _enslave_ them, it wasn’t like that – I mean, I know it was wrong, but it wasn’t like Father went over to a whole new continent with a gun and just-”

“So, what did _your father_ do?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. “Go on, you can tell us the _whole_ story, right from the beginning – how do you want to tell this?”

And Zan actually bit her lips in an attempt to keep this in – but it didn’t work.  
  


“Look, Anni-Vara is a wonderful place, so much better than that hell hole you’re from, and it always has been – but it _has_ always been the same. And Father, he – he just tried to tell the Councils, ever since he was a little boy, that they couldn’t just keep following the same traditions and doing the same things for thousands and thousands of years. That they couldn’t just keep teaching their children the same things, that they had to explore new things – that they had to _let_ people explore new things. That’s all he wanted to do. Develop _new_ drugs. Explore something that isn’t drugs, for Frantas sake, actually _think_ about some of the technology and theories that people brought here when they visit. But no. _This is a community built on tradition_.”

She slipped into a spiteful mocking tone – clearly getting carried away with her own monologue again.

“And they denied him funding, and they denied him credit, and they kicked him out of the university, and – it was all because he wanted to look at something new. So, he decided to look into it all on his own – and what was the problem with that, really? He wasn’t asking for any help from anyone, he wasn’t involving anyone else, just… researching. Experimenting – and it wasn’t _even_ weapons, at first.”

And she managed to pause, in the middle of her stream of consciousness, to look at each of them in turn – like some part of her _really_ wanted them both to know this.

“But the Councilmen and the Government and the neighbours, they wouldn’t stop harassing him, and eventually he looked into what he could develop to _protect_ himself, that was all. The things he could use to protect his _other_ research – that’s how he came up with the weapons. But then someone heard that he was developing weapons and – do you know, Anni-Vara has _no_ way of protecting itself, by the way? That part was true – my Dad always said, if an invasion _did_ come from somewhere wanting to steal our resources, we’d be Franted, that it was stupid that no one had even _thought_ about – but, I swear, it wasn’t his real interest either.”

Her eyes welled up when she said that – whether in sadness or in temper, it was hard to tell.

“He _had _to do that, to protect everything else he’d built, and he’d _never _have used them. But then, the local Council sent troops, and – Dad _just_ wanted to make a better life for us, and for everyone really. And he knew that if those troops reported back what they’d found and – it was a split-second call. He had to decide whether to let them take everything from him, or use the only weapon he _had_ developed, and… and then he’d done it. He’d drugged a platoon of Council troops into submission – so now he _really_ couldn’t let them report back, so… he just sort of ended up… keeping them. And I know that sounds-”

She broke off with a gasp then, raising her eyes skywards, like she just wanted to give up on the whole thing, _you wouldn’t understand._ But she _couldn’t_ give up on the whole thing – the drug wouldn’t let her.

“I _knew_ it was wrong, when I saw them – but he’s my _Dad_. And I knew my Father wasn’t a bad person and I knew so much of what he was saying was true and I didn’t _want_ him to be sent to prison or – and when he explained the way it was right, like I was _supposed_ to understand what he meant, and… And at first, he just kept them, and he wasn’t cruel to them, and he – it was my _brother_.”

She narrowed her eyes when she said that, like it was a swearword where she was from.

“Jayba isn’t like my Dad. He’s more like my Mum, and _she_ is cold. I hate _her_. And I hate Jayba, for convincing my Dad to use them as labour, and I hate my Mum for going along with it, and for covering it up. It’s just – she did it differently, to Father. She was so sneaky and manipulative. She lied to those troops families, and she made up evidence and she diverted the authorities and – all things my Dad just _couldn’t_ have done. And she wasn’t just thinking about how she could get away with it, she was thinking about what she could _do _with it. Like Jayba, thinking how we could _use _them to help with Father’s research. Father would never have done that, not without them pushing him, and – and then _more_ troops came.”

She almost moaned in anguish then, a frustration and panic in her voice, like these events she was remembering were happening right now.

“And it was all so obvious that it was never going to last – that _Jayba_ and my _Mum_ had convinced my Dad to start a _secret, slave-run_ factory out of _government_ troops and- they’re mad. Both of them. _They_ just want power, and they want it so much that they’ve convinced themselves it’s going to work, when _obviously_ it was never going to work. And when a second troop came, and we had to subdue them too – and by now my D_ad_ was going mad, because the pressure, and – _and then the humans came!_”

And a different sort of anger welled up in her then. A purer, simpler anger – _hatred._

“_Adam_ came, with his researchers, and they just _raped_ this place” She spat “They pulled up sacred crops, and pitched tents on holy land, and pulled down berries that were halfway through a _hundred year development cycle_ and they _put their waste in our water!_” She shouted, so loud that she had to catch her breath afterwards. “And – okay, so they _didn’t_ come in their thousands, and they didn’t try to enslave us, and they only brought the weapons they had in the first place – but so what? Does that make it _right_? Does that make it okay for them to just walk all over us and – they brought _guns._ We’d never seen a gun! And…if it weren’t for my brother… My Dad was _still_ just thinking of keeping our family together, and…”

She had to pause for longer then, panting heavily – still trying to speak.

“So, to summarise.” Steve stepped in – mainly out of a compassionate instinct to give the woman a break.

“Your family – through a series of complicated and unfortunate events, whatever – but they ‘ended up’ kidnapping a group of government troops. And your father – for understandable and altruistic reasons, you think – is the one that came up with the drugs to do that. And your mother, and your brother, decided to turn them into slaves… working on your fathers research?”

“My _Mum_ seems to think that, when this is all over, Father will have the most esteemed research facility in all of Varia. That _she’ll_ be running the government, as head of the family that saved Anni-Vara from alien invaders, and helped usher in a whole new era of development” Zan cut in, derisorily “Because she’s _mad_. She seems to think the slaves will just be _taken care of_ – my Father could _never_ just kill five hundred people, just to suit his needs, but she would – she’d kill them all to cover her tracks. My poor Dad ended up in this mess, just because he wanted to research new things. _She _saw the opportunity to ‘use that’, and my brother – I mean, really, _who_ looks at a room full of accidental hostages and starts to calculate what that much man-power could-”

“And _then_” Steve cut in – mainly because she was getting breathless again. “A team of humans came, and exploited your planet. And your father – who was, in the meantime, panicking about his accidental hostages, but _also_ using them to further his research – teamed up with them?”

Zan looked down before she answered, her shoulders slumping under the effort of this.

“My _brother_ convinced him that we should partner up with the humans. Make an effort to learn their language, since they wouldn’t learn ours. Tell them they could use our research, and our labour, if they let us learn from their technology – but really, what they wanted was a scape goat. That’s what really convinced my Dad. Jayba said, if we let the humans use our slaves – and, you know, he just _told_ the humans that Anni-Vara had slaves, that it was ‘just fine here’, and the humans didn’t ask another question. Just accepted it, and said _thank you, that was helpful_ – what does that say, really? But my brother said that, once the humans had been here using Varian slaves, and conducting this research, then we could tell the Council it had all been them all along. My Mum said, if we ‘took care of’ the workers, so that there was no one to contradict it, then the Council would just think that everything was the human’s fault – that we could take credit for stopping them.”

And Zan looked up at them again, a defeated look in her eyes now.

“_My Mum’s_ plan, is to wait a little while longer, and then kill all the humans herself. And the workers. And then tell the Council that our family bravely stood up to this invasion – using Father’s research, that they’ve always denounced. Tell them that the humans enslaved the troops and killed them, and would’ve done more if it weren’t for us. Then no one would come after my Dad for the hostages, or the research. Then maybe they’d respect him, and us. She thinks the humans are going to mean the difference between us all going to prison, and us running the world.”

Steve and Tony shared a glance, while Zan was catching her breath again. Steve remembered Tony saying that they’d only have a few minutes before this dose wore off, so he pushed ahead with the next question.

“So why not tell us all of this in the first place?” He asked her. “Why ask us for help at all?”

“Because my brother is _mad_!” She shouted, as though it should’ve been obvious “And my Mum is _mad_, and my Dad has been _driven_ mad by this and – I don’t want anyone to die! I don’t want my Dad to go to prison and I don’t want to tear my whole family apart – but she’s just going to kill five hundred people! And there _is_ a secret project, just so you know”

She seemed to remember from nowhere – pre-empting Steve’s final question

“And I really don’t know what it is, and my brother says it doesn’t matter because he’s sure it’s something meant for Earth – and honestly, if it is, then I don’t care either, because I hate all of you and I don’t care _what_ happens to your planet – but what if it’s _not_? Why do they just trust these people? And – it’s just all such a mess, and it’s all going to come crashing down, and people are going to die and… I thought about telling the Council anyway, even though I was so scared of what they’d do to Father, but I can’t even do that anymore because the Adam’s _do_ have guns and they’d kill me if they found out – or my brother would. I really think he would, now, if he found out I’d tried to stop him.”

And then she looked up, her eyes so much heavier all of a sudden.

“And then you turned up, and all the Adams seemed to think you were special, and then, when I saw you I really _did_ think that maybe you – that, if you just came in and got rid of the humans, maybe we _could_ still blame them somehow, without killing anyone, especially if the human planet _took_ responsibility. Or, even if not, I just thought – But I didn’t think you’d help me if you knew what really happened, or I thought you’d go after Father or – I don’t know, I just thought if I told you it was all the humans fault, you’d blame them and get rid of them and then maybe everyone else would blame them too… But at least it’d be over.”

And then, for a full minute, she was actually quiet. She just sat, exhausted, and looking thoroughly miserable.

“And now everything is ruined, and even if my brother doesn’t kill me and the Council don’t arrest me, I’ll have nowhere to go” She sounded numb now. Almost resigned. “My family are monsters, and I have done horrible things, and there’s just nothing for me now.”

Steve saw Tony smile sympathetically at the back of her head, a genuine softness in his eyes.

“You know, I’ve met a few people who’ve talked like that” Steve told her, his voice kinder now “And some of them ended up among the best people I know.”

Zan just shot him a withering look. And seeing as she didn’t outright call him an idiot, he assumed the truth serum had worn off.

They heard a little _beep _from behind the chair, and Zan turned to see Tony typing the co-ordinates into the portal-device again.

“What’re you going to do?” She asked, turning back to Steve, her eyes suddenly wide with fear.

“We’re going to do our best to fix this mess – C’mon, stand up” Steve informed her, offering her a hand. “We’re going to set those hostages free, and we’re going to do our best to make sure no one get’s hurt in the meantime – and if the authorities on your planet have a problem with your family after that, then that’s what they have to deal with.”

Zan nodded, solemnly, as Tony dropped the portal remote onto the floor. Steve swore he could see a hint of relief under her sadness.

“And we’re _also_ going to find out what this ‘special project’ is, and get these people off of your planet – here, hold this” He told her, taking a USB stick out of his pocket and placing it in her hand.

“And this one.” Tony added – stopping his recording, and handing the second USB pen to her too.

“And this” And Steve put a folded piece of paper in her other hand. “Just give these to The Avengers, and answer their questions, and you’ll be fine”

“_The Avengers?_” She squinted at him-

“What the actual Fuck, Tony?” Rhodey asked, incredulously.

Steve looked up, to see Rhodey, Nat, Clint, Bruce and Nebula staring at them, through a gap in time and space. He could hear Rocket, somewhere off to the left of the portal, demanding to know what was going on, and Quill telling him to shut up.

“Hi guys!” Tony waved brightly. “Long story, and can’t explain it all now, but this is Zan – her family are involved in the shit-show happening here, and she asked for our help in stopping them. She has a recording of her own confession on UBS number one – I suggest you listen to that first, if you want some idea of what’s going on.”

As he was explaining, Steve was gently pushing Zan forward, towards the portal. She seemed like she was neither fighting him nor going along with him, by now.

“There’s also another USB; literally all the files from the Facility are on there.” Tony carried on “And we wrote a rough guide to the plan on the back of a drug pamphlet – you should probably read _that_ first actually, because we don’t know when we’re going to need reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements?” Nat repeated, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s all on the drug pamphlet” He smiled, standing aside to let Zan step through the portal.

“O-_kaaaaay_,” Rhodey answered – taking Zan’s hand to help her step down onto planet Earth. “But-”

“Can’t chat – we have to take this thing down before anyone notices she’s missing” Tony explained, quickly. Rhodey just nodded. “Just make sure you have someone on watch in the conference room, okay? This is where I’ll open the portal, when we need you”

“Okay.” Rhodey answered, glancing at the others to confirm before he added, “We’ll be ready.”

And then, before they closed the portal, Steve heard Rhodey say to Zan,

“Welcome to The Avengers.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope this doesn't come over as flippant or frivolous, but I know this *is* a sensitive or uncomfortable topic for some people, so, fair warning - this chapter does include *some* discussion of The Accords. It's really not all that political, but, If you'd prefer to know gets talked about before you read, please see the end notes. If you prefer not to engage with any of the political stuff in any way, all you really need to know is that Steve and Tony talk while waiting for their next mark - and then skip to the chapter break to go straight to the plot.
> 
> Which I really hope you enjoy!

They had no plans to hang around and wait for this Franciszek guy, obviously.

They didn’t really need help, from Zan or anyone else, to interrogate a staff member. And since, in reality, they had their pick, they decided to go with someone Zan hadn’t been tipped off about, someone they didn’t have to wait hours for-

Someone the already knew.

So, as per their plan, they grabbed the portal device and headed straight for Maribelle’s party. According to the computer system, she was due to make an appearance at any moment, and they knew it would be easy enough to convince her to have a ‘quiet chat’ with them. And – even though there was nearly as much sex going on at this party as the one they’d left – it was at least better lit. More chance of avoiding the damp patches, if nothing else…

Neither of them could see Maribelle anywhere on the lower level, so they made their way up the stairs. Not there either. They shared an impatient glance, Steve letting go of a slow breath as Tony walked to the edge of the balcony, to scan the ground floor again. They both wanted this to be over now.

But Steve could tell from the way that Tony’s shoulders slumped, it was going to be a little while longer at least.

“Come on” Tony waved towards a couch at the edge of the balcony railing, at the very back of the room “I think we’ll be able to see most from there.”

So, they made their way past many drunk-and-semi-naked people, and sat down. The fact that two men were fucking – really rather aggressively – on a couch just two feet behind theirs barely occurred to either of them. They were both far too focused on spotting Maribelle, and the prospect of ending this mission, and going home…Together.

But five minutes passed, and then ten. After a while, Steve’s shoulders began to ache with the effort of keeping them tense. And then, just as his eyes were beginning to burn, he heard Tony whisper, dryly,

“You really _aren’t,_ Buddy. Give it up”

And only then did Steve realise that the guy behind them had been repeating the phrase, _I’m close, I’m close_, for, oh, almost as long as they’d been sitting there.

Steve snorted a laugh, the tension leaving his body like he’d just accidentally dropped it.

And he looked up at Tony, and they shared a sigh, and a shrug. A silent gesture of understanding… an understanding they’d never once spoken out loud. One of the bonds they’d _always_ shared, even back when they thought they didn’t know one another. The little things that were simply part of life as an Avenger, and _only_ an Avenger.

The way they both understood that – even when Thanos was in Wakanda, or New York was full of aliens, or Sokovia was flying – you still couldn’t maintain complete and total focus for longer than fifteen minutes. No one could. It was a physical and emotional impossibility… but until you spend two hours battling Chitauri, you just wouldn’t understand. That sometimes you _do_ relax, just a little, even in the middle of combat. That not every moment can be a priority, when your whole life is made up of priority moments. That, actually, you need to leave somewhere for yourself to go, when the big moment really came.

They’d never once talked about it, but they’d always just acted like the other person knew… There were times when you tensed every muscle, and there were times when you could crack a joke in the middle of a firefight, and there were times when you sat there and chatted, even while you were checking the exits. It just had to be that way.

And, apparently, it wasn’t time for _imminent engagement_ mode after all.

So, Steve let himself sit back into the couch, and rubbed his eyes, and let them stay closed for half a minute. When he started scanning the room again it was more casually…leaving some of his attention free to consider other things, while he looked for Maribelle…

“So, Zan.” He sighed, glancing at Tony between sweeps of the room.

“I don’t know… Assuming that’s the true story, I think I just feel sorry for her.” Tony answered, thoughtfully.

“Well, at least we know she didn’t _lie_” Steve mused…

“Which is a nice change” Tony conceded “But, you know that doesn’t mean all that is _true_ – I mean, just because _she_ really doesn’t think her father is evil…”

“And there’s always the things they _don’t_ tell you.” Steve sighed, “When it later turns out that she already killed a hundred people or something, and didn’t think to mention it. Or we find out that her fathers research is something evil…”

“So, we turn them over to the authorities here, if there are any…” Tony spoke like he was thinking aloud…_considering_…

“And assuming we can _find_ them” Steve added – even though they’d already discussed this much of the plan. “It’s either that, or make sure the troops are okay, and let _them_ take care of reporting what happened…”

“…What if the troops are evil?” Tony asked, contemplatively.

Steve repeated the question in his head.

…They hadn’t discussed _that_ much of the plan, yet.

“What if it turns out that Zan’s Dad was doing research to end a horrible plague” Tony carried on in the same philosophical tone. “And it _is_ just illegal because of religious fundamentalism… and the punishment here is being thrown in acid, or something? Do we still hand them over?”

And Steve felt a very familiar headache start to build behind his eyes. A pressure, with an edge of frustration… The old battery of responses. Immediately feeling responsible for finding an answer. Then a stab of injustice that he should have to, an anger at the world for making it so hard… Then the sinking feeling of inadequacy, the kick of self-hatred for not being able to just step up to this… the rising fear, that he wouldn’t have anything to say, that he’d say the wrong thing and…and, then…

Something new.

A _new_ response to this…

“I have no fucking idea” He answered, honestly.

It was like dropping a lead weight.

And when Tony _didn’t_ demand of him, _what do you mean, you have no idea?_ When he didn’t make a comment about Captain America being a real disappointment, or immediately demand that someone more confident be put in charge – when he did, in fact, just shrug in an, _I know, right?_ kind of a gesture…

Steve almost giggled, he was so _delighted_ by this revelation. This sudden _freedom_ to speak, to just-

“I mean, if it’s _that_ clear cut, probably not. Even though I’m sure people here would be pissed at justice not being done, especially if that’s just normal justice to them… I’m pretty sure I’ll sleep okay, knowing I didn’t let a plague doctor get thrown into acid.” Steve just _carried on talking_. Not even filtering for the complicated bits and the contradictory bits and the I’m-not-sure-I-should-think-this bits. Just… “It’s more when it turns out that he was actually researching… I don’t know, a type of abortion, or a way to disseminate pornography, or something where half the planet think he’s immoral and half of them think he’s making a great moral stand – and it turns out that the punishment is being… _submerged in the goo of mystery_, or something, and Zan’s telling us that’s torture and the government are saying it’s a very merciful punishment – and we’re just thinking it looks like goo. You know, when it’s a thousand complicated issues all layered on top of each other, and loads of stuff we can’t know for ourselves. _That’s_ when I hate it.”

And Tony just listened.

And he nodded.

And he _understood_.

And _then_-

“Do you ever just think…” Tony sighed, wistfully, looking up at the ceiling. “…I _just_ wanted to be good?”

And,

_Oh my God-_

“_Yes_!” Steve exhaled, throwing his arms open in a gesture of victory. _Yes,_ he knew exactly what Tony meant, in fact – “I would say I spend about half my waking life _just_ thinking that one fucking thing.”

And Tony actually sat up in the _same_ moment of sudden empathy, the same gesture of solidarity, like he was every bit as excited to find someone that related to this as Steve was.

“And I don’t even mean – why can’t everyone _else_ be good, or why can’t the world be better, or whatever” Tony added, his tone more animated. “I mean _I_ just wanted to be able to do the right thing, and – you know when you’re a kid, and all the comics and TV shows and _all_ the teachers and grown ups were like ‘_you must always do the right thing, even if it’s hard, and just be honest and brave and kind’_?”

“And if only it was that simple?” Steve almost cut him off, “And you really _would_ do all those things, if you could work out what they were?”

“Or if, when you’d worked out what they were, the world didn’t immediately throw _another_ curve ball at you?”

And Steve could only nod. Because, yes.

Just, _yes_.

Steve literally had to take a moment, to recover from the release of that… And when he looked up, still smiling, he saw Tony smiling back at him- a little hint of a thought around his eyes.

Steve raised his eyebrows at him, _hm_?

“It’s just… Okay, so, honestly, at some point, you and I should probably talk about, you know, politics, and… The Accords, and regulation and everything…” Tony began, more thoughtful than cautious. “And there’s probably a lot of that we’d still disagree on, and things I wouldn’t apologise for thinking, or saying – views I still have… But I _am_ sorry for… I don’t know, the _way_ we talked about all that?” And he looked to Steve for reassurance, waiting for Steve to smile, and nod, before he added “And, I don’t know – since we’re being honest with each other, I really don’t think this is _just_ me… but, you know, I know it _was_ me, I…”

And Steve considered leaping in here with the apology _he_ wanted to make, since they were on this topic. An apology that could’ve started with almost the exact same wording, actually… But he got the impression that Tony was trying to work something out here, that he was in the middle of finding the words for something. So, for a moment, he sat quietly and let him continue.

“The thing is – it _is_ complicated.” Tony sighed, eventually. “You can’t really say you’re for or against regulation as a concept. You can’t _really_ say you’re for or against The Accords, as a black and white statement, like that. It’s always going to be, _I know they aren’t perfect, but it’s the best of all the options._ Or, _I know the needs they address are real, but there are too many problems_. Or, I don’t know, a thousand options in between. And, when you said, you weren’t against regulation _per se_… I’m not blindly in favour of regulation, either. I don’t think The Accords are… all that good, actually” He winced a little, like it was an admission. “I _just_ thought, they were best way to – but this is not my point”

He caught himself, and re-centred.

“My _point _is – I think I was so desperate to keep you on that team, and _so_ desperate to stop everything from falling apart, that I… simplified everything down to that? I turned it into this ‘_for us or against us_’ thing where… I was so desperate to _convince_ you, that I wasn’t really discussing it with you. I _was _looking to argue with every point, rather than think about it and – one, that was probably really frustrating, and it’s probably the reason why we fought. But, two… I think The Accords wouldn’t _be _not-that-good, if I’d thought of it as a serious political process, to _work on_ a functioning legal document… If I’d listened to some of your objections, and thought about how to deal with them and not just how to counter them… I just… Honestly, if we were to have that discussion again, I don’t know if I’d be trying to say something much different – but I’d sure as hell say it in a different way. And I’d _listen. _And I’d think about the context, about what you’d be feeling, I’d… try to put myself in your position, rather than just trying to make you see mine. So, I know that’s just… it’s just one thing. I know there’s other stuff we’re going to have to talk about, but _that_ I am sorry for.”

And Steve broke into a grin. Because that _was_ basically the apology he’d wanted to make.

“Well, thank you…But, you’re right, that _isn’t_ just you. I actually wanted to say… I know, it must’ve seemed like you were trying to come up with a solution, and I was just picking holes in it. I know it’s easy to be on the opposition, to have a thousand _what about’s _and _what if’s_… I guess it _is_ a bit about the things you don’t say- or, the things _I_ didn’t say.”

Steve laughed softly at himself. It was weird. _This_ conversation was complicated, really. It was hard to find the words for, and a bit awkward in places… but still, it was nice. He wasn’t uncomfortable, talking like this…

“The things I _did_ say about The Accords, I meant – because those were the parts I was sure of. I can always say those parts, whatever the consequences. And the parts I _wasn’t _sure of, the bits it was hard to put into words or the ideas I wasn’t ready to commit to or the questions I had… I just left out. And I know, most of the things I actually said _out loud_, you could say about _any _law – _what if we don’t agree with it one day_, or _what if something else comes up_ or, you know, _it means we won’t always have a choice_… I know I didn’t exactly engage with a line-by-line analysis of The Accords either, or offer any suggestions.”

He exhaled, softly, thinking back to that day in the conference room – listening to Sam and Rhodey casually throw hypotheticals at each other, and thinking of a thousand answers of his own… and keeping his eyes fixed on the document in front of him. That sense of wordless longing that had filled him them, all the imperfect words that didn’t fit the thing he would’ve liked to say…

“I knew it at the time. And it wasn’t like I didn’t _have _specific reasons, or thoughts on _this _law. I _read _The Accords, and I had all these thoughts, and questions, and better ideas…But, you know, I wasn’t sure about them, or it was hard to put into words. I could think of problems with all my ideas too, so I didn’t say them, didn’t think of offering them as a starting point… In fairness to you, it’s harder to listen to someone, if that someone finds it hard to say what they’re thinking anyway…”

And Tony laughed kindly. Gratefully.

“And, yeah, I guess it did turn into a bit of a ‘who’s side are you on’ thing, and… yeah, that’s not a good way to decide anything, especially something as complicated as this.” Steve smiled, self-consciously. “And, honestly, I don’t know if what I think about The Accords has changed all that much either… But _I’d_ say it all very differently, if we did it all again. I’d _say_ more, period. I’d try to explain a bit better, I’d try explaining what I would do instead, I’d… Yeah, talk about it all a lot more.”

He and Tony shared a moment of genuinely comfortable quiet, both still smiling. And then Tony’s face lit up with a sudden thought,

“And I’m sorry about that…fight, we had at the compound, by the way – with the pens.” He remembered out loud. Steve blinked in surprised.

“Oh yeah, _I _was going to apologise, for that” Steve frowned at him. Tony frowned back, equally baffled.

“_You_? Why were you going to apologise for that?”

“Because… I thought, at the time – I knew that you _were_ trying to reach out to me, then.” Steve explained. “I actually thought… y’know, as hard as we both found it… that time, you _did_ think about a way to start an actual conversation. And I could tell you were _trying_ to find compromises and… And I remember thinking, at the time, that _maybe _we could… so, you know, it _did_ work. But then…”

And he sighed, and had to take a second to collect his words.

“The thing is, I’m not saying I wouldn’t have objected to the whole thing with Wanda. I still would, even now. But… I had _all_ these reasons, for immediately hating that. And _some_ of them were probably rational, balanced problems with the approach you were taking, that maybe I could’ve _explained_… And I thought you _would’ve_ listened, then. But, there were also all the _other_ things, you know, the ominous _fear_ of what it could turn into, and the _sneaky_ way Ross and everyone seemed to be pushing on with this, and the sympathy I felt for Wanda – even, I know it sounds stupid, but the fear and sympathy I felt for _you_… Just, realising all of a sudden that things _weren’t_ hopeful, that actually everything was awful, and… I just felt like I yelled at you with _all_ of that. I felt like I’d sort of… yelled at my fear of the Nazi’s, and my disappointment in the situation, and then you were just looking at me, like, _I was trying_, and…”

When he looked up again, Tony had that same smile on his face, that moment of identity with another person… that was encouraging, at least.

“And I know I said, _just when I think you’re starting to see things the right way,_” Steve carried on “I remember regretting it at the time, and thinking it wasn’t the wording I was going for there. That it must’ve seemed like… like you _had_ tried explaining the reality of the situation, and the options available, and _why_ you thought, you know, you didn’t want Bucky to end up in a Wakandan prison, and all that… And then my response is _you just don’t get it._ And – I always hated people who argued like that with me. Like whatever I tried to do wasn’t good enough unless it was perfect, even for people who didn’t have a better plan. Or like there was some ‘right’ answer, and if I even needed to have it explained to me then I was somehow lacking, and… I really didn’t mean to do that to you. I didn’t mean it to sound like… I was just, probably more emotional than I should’ve been, right then, and it probably came out all wrong, so…” And he shrugged, good-naturedly, and then finally added. “I’m sorry.”

And Tony just smiled at him.

“That’s not quite how I remember it…” He said. And Steve scoffed a little laugh, _well, obviously not. _

And Tony blushed, and gave a self-aware little nod… and then carried on,

“_I_ remember that… Actually, as hard as we both find it, _you_ did try to, uh, compromise, there. I remember you saying, you know, that maybe it wasn’t impossible, with safeguards… and I was just so excited at the prospect of maybe winning this thing that I didn’t even bother to ask what safeguards you wanted. Just a blunt, _yay, whatever_, and… yeah, that probably must’ve seemed like I really _wasn’t_ there to meet you halfway… I mean, I _was_ trying, but I thought it must’ve seemed like… Like I’d say anything to shut you up? And, I’d like to say I’m sorry it _came out_ that way… but really, maybe I’m just sorry it _was_ that way. A little bit.”

And Tony pinched his lips together, like he was slightly embarrassed at himself.

“I know all your worries were about the big picture. The long term and the underlying meaning. And… you’re not wrong, about that being important. And, looking back, maybe I was just… unwilling to even engage with that. So desperate to fix things _right now_, that I didn’t _want_ to talk about those things, I just wanted them out of the way so that everything could be better.”

And his blush deepened slightly, and his body language became more self-conscious

“And, you know, _I’m _the one who lost my tempter. I’m the one who shouted, and made it personal. And, yeah, that’s probably because I was thinking with my feelings too much, too. And, since we’ve been here especially, I’ve thought… You know, the _context_ of this for you is… _including but not limited to_, the Nazi’s, and the occupation of SHIELD, and… there was me. ‘_I know internment makes you squeamish, but don’t worry, look, I found some old pens’_ He mocked himself in a silly, frivolous voice, “I don’t know, in hindsight that seems kinda… tone deaf, and insensitive….”

“I actually thought it was sweet” Steve muttered, blushing himself, now.

And he caught Tony’s eye, and they shared a smile.

_Yeah, okay – we are both morons…_

And then Tony took Steve’s hand, running his thumb over the back of it,

“Maybe, when we get back, we should just talk more about this stuff… just, generally.” He suggested “The things we think and the things we’re not sure if we think and the things where we’re not sure what to think…”

Which had, up until very recently, been _Steve’s_ personal version of hell. A conversation without objective purpose, in which he had no pre-agreed stand and there was no obvious right answer… a potentially complicated, confusing, political conversation with Tony. And yet, he absolutely meant it when he said,

“I’d like that.”

Actually…

“…You know, I think I’d really like that.” Steve carried on, “Just… talking _about_ this stuff. Even the confusing bits. Or, even – maybe even _especially_ the confusing bits.”

“Me too.” Tony smiled, squeezing Steve’s hand. “And, who knows, it might even end up being more use. More than… I don’t know, _campaigning_, or whatever we were doing before” And Steve laughed gently, and nodded…

And then a memory flickered at the corners of Tony’s lips, an almost smile. And, in a wiser, more distanced tone, he added.

“_He who begins with certainties must surely end in doubt, but he who is content to begin with doubt may still end with certainty…_”

And Steve immediately loved it.

It _felt_ right, before he’d even had a chance to think about it.

It was that instinctive, unspoken connection – _it just spoke to me_.

“Who said that?” He asked – really hoping it wasn’t someone awful, seeing as he’d just adopted it as a personal motto on first hearing…

And Tony’s smile warmed slightly, his eyes softening as he said,

“I know it’s a famous quote, and I don’t actually know who said it originally… I only know it because Peggy told me that, when I was a kid.”

And Steve felt that as an instant, innate sense of _rightness_, just there in his heart.

An understanding that that was just… perfect, for more reasons than he could list right now.

A realisation that he could never have shared a moment like that with Tony – and therefore, he could never have had this moment at all – just a week ago.

And he could now.

That was-

And then he saw Tony sit up, his eyes snapping to a fixed point somewhere beyond the balcony railing. He turned to look, even though he already knew.

Maribelle had arrived.

*

By the time they reached the bottom of the staircase, Maribelle was already greeting a group of people at the bar. They both paused, knowing they would have to wait for a better moment to intercept her – knowing there was no need to communicate that fact.

Tony instinctively did a quick scan for quiet spots where they could interrogate her – even though he already knew that Steve would beat him to it. And sure enough, before Tony could think of the criteria he was looking to meet,

“If we go through the side exit” Steve gestured vaguely to a door on the right, “There’s that corridor with the dead end, around a corner.”

“Okay.” Tony whispered back, not even bothering to visualise the corridor in question – just trusting him. “I’ll spray her, you scare her.”

So, at the opportune moment, they made their way through the crowd, subtly parting ways when they were about a hundred feet from Maribelle, so that Tony could casually circle round behind her.

It was very well timed, though he did say so himself.

Just as Maribelle parted company with the little group she’d been talking to, Tony was able to stroll nonchalantly by her – spritzing her with the ‘intimidate’ spray while everyone was distracted, and continuing coolly to the bar… No one noticed.

No one glanced up when Tony reached the counter and then turned back immediately, like he’d forgotten the order.

No one else saw Maribelle’s confident stride stutter when she was halfway to the dancefloor, like she’s just realised something terrible…

If anyone looked up as either Steve or Tony were walking over to her, they wouldn’t have any reason to think anything of it.

And Tony knew, even without an alien drug spray, Steve could threaten anyone into doing as he said. That Steve could convincingly make some very dark promises, that he _could_ inflict a great deal of pain on someone without causing them any real harm – without crossing the line that anyone else would’ve set themselves, in a situation like this.

And Tony loved Steve, for having a different line.

He loved Steve for thinking of a better, fairer, _kinder_ alternative, even though he didn’t have to – even for people that didn’t deserve it.

He loved Steve for being _smart_ enough to think of something else. For being emotionally intelligent enough to know why it mattered – even though he’d been raised in an era that wasn’t, apparently.

Steve _could_ have threatened and frightened and inflicted pain. He _could_ have bullied his way into this, and justified it even – it would’ve been quicker, and easier, and there was so much at stake…

But Tony loved Steve because he wouldn’t do any of those things.

Because he _could_ do something better. And that was the end of it, for Steve.

Tony caught up with Maribelle a few seconds after Steve reached her – in time to catch him say.

“Please, I need you to listen to me, literally everyone in this building is in danger right now.” And then, as the colour was draining from her face, he added. “And I promise, everything is going to be alright, but I need you to do exactly as I say right now, okay?”

And, of course, she nodded sharply, immediately keen to comply – Tony suspected it would’ve been exactly the same, whether they’d had the drugs or not. Steve shot Tony a quick glance of confirmation before he whispered,

“Follow us”

Tony went ahead – leading the way while Steve gently encouraged her to follow, a constant presence at her back as they made their way out of the room. Then, as they reached the end of the corridor, Tony subtly hung back. Steve waited until they’d managed to get Maribelle cornered, both of them blocking her in at the end of the hall, before he spoke again.

“Okay, I’m sorry that this isn’t going to make much sense, but we haven’t got time to explain it.” He explained in an urgent tone. “Have you ever heard of an alien warlord, calls himself Shawarma?”

Because, hey, they had to give this fictional warlord _a_ name – why not have some fun with it?

And, obviously, Maribelle shook her head, her eyes still wide and shining.

“Well, you’re just going to have to trust us, he’s not a nice guy, and he has an interest in this place – one that probably doesn’t require keeping any of the people in it alive.” Steve short-handed, pretending to be impatient but professional.

“I can trigger an evacuation-” Maribelle offered, her voice high and tight. But Steve cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“No, you can’t.” He told her, solemnly. “If you do that, then…” And he paused, as though he was trying to think of a way to explain it, and then he shook his head, as though he’d given up on it, and then he looked at her imploringly. “We just _have_ to keep people in this building, right now. You just have to trust me.”

“So, what do we do?” Maribelle demanded – completely skipping any scrutiny of Steve’s non-explanation.

“We need to ask you some questions, and I know it’s not going to make any sense why we’re asking, but this is going to be quicker if you just answer – and we really need to be quick here, okay?” He explained. And she nodded. “And we really need you to be honest with us right now. Even things that you’re sure don’t matter, you _have_ to tell us the truth, about everything.”

Again, she nodded.

“Do you know anything about the Varian slaves that work at The Facility?” Steve began, his tone neutral and perfunctory – but still, Tony saw Maribelle flinch just a little at the use of the word.

“I know that they have slaves on Anni Vara. I’ve never met them” She muttered.

“Do you know how they’re being enslaved?” Steve went on – and Maribelle blinked, and just looked at him for a second.

“I don’t… They’re just, slaves – I don’t know what you mean.” She frowned.

Tony saw Steve set his jaw.

And he thought… he knew that Steve had difficulty, saying the things he wasn’t sure of. But the things he _was_ sure of…

Tony was certain that Steve was having difficulty _not_ saying something, right now.

“I _mean_, the slaves in your basement are being drugged into submission – do you know anything about it?” He demanded, a slight edge of aggression on his voice. Which just made Maribelle more eager to comply.

“I don’t know anything about the local workforce – I was just hired as a pharmacist, for a human company, based on earth.”

“And it didn’t bother you?” Steve asked, tetchily. Tony got the impression that one had just slipped out.

“Well, yes, obviously.” Maribelle replied – a little bit of defensive outrage creeping in, even though she was clearly still frightened. “But I’m not going to write an entire race off on the basis of that, not when _we_ had slaves 200 years ago – they’re just at a different place in their history. And if we’re coming here to work with them, we can’t enforce our… standards, and… norms on… them…”

Tony suspected that her monologue had been crushed under the sheer weight of Steve’s withering look – and he was glad.

“Do you know anything about a ‘special project’?” Steve got back to the point, his voice cold. “Something your boss – Adam, is it? – Something big he might be working on?”

“What? No – nothing like that. Nothing other than, just, what we’re working on?”

“What _are_ you working on?” Tony cut in “You were hired by an earth company – to do what?”

“We’re researching new drugs” She answered, throwing her arms open in surrender, _what do you want from me_ “Adam and his company came here to collect samples, and run experiments, and they found that there might be the potential to create recreational drugs without the side effects – that’s it, that’s all.”

“Do the people here _know_ you’re experimenting on them?” Steve narrowed his eyes at her.

“We’re not – we’re not _experimenting_ on the people here.” She stuttered back. “I mean, we run experiments, as well, on volunteers and animals and tissue samples and things – but, this place, I mean, we just collect data on what people are doing anyway. We don’t tell _any_ lies about what people are taking and we make sure people consent and we ask them if they want to do it and – yeah, if they do, we record things, but we…”

And again, eventually she could only shrug.

“What do you know about this Adam person?” Tony asked.

“Nothing.” Maribelle answered, quickly and decisively. “I’ve never even met him; no one has. I don’t think he’s ever been down from the fourth floor.”

Steve and Tony looked at one another suddenly, their brows creased in the same confusion – the same anxiety.

_There’s a fourth floor?_

Not according to the computer system, there wasn’t. And that meant, if it existed, the fourth floor had a separate power supply, a separate communication network, a separate ventilation system – and great efforts had been taken to conceal all of it.

It wasn’t exactly encouraging, was it?

“Do you know what’s up there? What happens on the fourth floor?” Tony asked. Maribelle shook her head.

“I’ve never been up there. No one goes up there.”

“How long have you worked here?” Steve frowned, suddenly, like the thought had just occurred to him.

“Uh, about eighteen months?”

“Is that since the beginning?”

“Oh, no, everything was set up when I joined.”

“So, how long _has_ The Facility been here?” Tony filtered into Steve’s line of questioning.

“I don’t – I _think_ this actual building has been here for _years_, as in centuries. It was a Varian resort – the family that own it _let us_ have it. They partnered with us and everything. And that was, I don’t know, a few years ago? Not _that _long before I started, I don’t think… And Adam changed it, to make it a human resort, sure, but it’s still _based_ on… what was here, before.” Again, she sounded defensive – although Tony wasn’t even sure what point she was defending herself _against_, anymore.

He glanced at Steve again, and saw Steve thinking the same thing he was – they’d got what they came for. They knew _where_ to find this Adam guy. And, from the sounds of it, Maribelle wouldn’t be able to get them in, or tell them anything else that was useful. There wasn't much reason to stay with this awful woman any longer

“Okay, we _need_ to get up to the fourth floor, _now_.” Steve informed her, very seriously.

“I can’t-”

“We _just_ need to be able to get through the third floor” He cut in “You need to take a drug, to be able to deal with the atmosphere in there or whatever it is, right?” But she was already nodding, and reaching into a pocket on the inside of her coat.

“Here” She said, handing him a little wad of beige coloured patches. “They give these to the staff, we all have hundreds of them.”

“What’re these?” Steve squinted at them.

“It’s so we can go to the research floor – the third floor – and still be competent” She explained “They’ll counter all the effects, once you’re up there… although, I don’t know about the _fourth_ floor… People are, uh, very edgy about even going to close to – I mean, I genuinely don’t know what you’ll find after-”

“You can let us worry about that.” Steve sighed, looking back to Tony, _ready to go?_

Tony only asked his final question because he was curious.

“Why do you call this place New Eden, if you know it’s called Anni Vara?”

And Maribelle actually looked at him as though it was a stupid question.

“Marketing.”

They both groaned in exasperation.

“Okay…” Steve exhaled, taking a small swatch of fabric out of his pocket-

A good old-fashioned Earth based sedative, this time. A little something that Tony had thrown together from the leftovers of his chemistry experiment, from a formula he’d learned a very long time ago. It knocked Maribelle out cold within a second of Steve putting the cloth to her face, and she just slumped as a dead weight into the wall behind her. Steve guided her gently to a sitting position on the floor, checking her pulse and her breathing before he stood up again. Then he gave Tony a little nod. She wouldn’t wake up again for at least six hours. Even if someone found her, and even if they assumed anything more than a medical problem, they wouldn’t be able to get any details out of her.

Looking at her, Tony had a sudden bad taste in his mouth. An unclean feeling that only got worse as he thought through everything she’d just said… somehow, the thoughtlessness of her actions, the casual assumption of her own rightness… it was more uncomfortable than hearing about the family of power-hungry slave drivers, in a way.

And then he felt Steve take his hand again.

And, somehow, it really did make the whole of existence seem that much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, The Accords do come up. However, neither Steve not Tony really get into what they actually think about them or any debate about their actual political opinions - this is more dealing with the *way* they discussed things in CACW, and how they might go on to talk about things in the future. They both make apologies for how they dealt with the disagreement, rather than saying they've rethought or amended their actual views in anyway. Any specific apologies given are for the way things came out/wording/tone/approach and not for any of the principles of views they once held. It's not stated whether they have or haven't rethought their actual politics, really, it ends on the idea that they have a lot more (hopefully more healthy) political discussion to do in the future.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to give people the most possible warnings about everything  
1) The Accords are gently referenced again here, mainly as part of wider enlightenments people are having - but there's no real discussion in this update  
2) There is a fairly obvious drug effect on both of them in this chapter, which leads to some pretty out of character behaviour - although doesn't lead either of them to do anything immoral/dangerous/outside their usual ideology/especially embarrassing (I don't think, anyway) And I think it's fairly clear that it's the effects of the drugs.  
3) Tony makes mention in this chapter that he thinks Adam might be mentally ill. He does not say this in a derogatory way, but just to reassure you, this is not going to be the full discussion of this point, and it's not going to be given as Adam's whole motivation (I'm really not a fan of the whole 'X has a mental illness, we can tell because they behave unconventionally, that explains everything!' trope... and it was only when I realised where the chapter break was going to be that I thought maybe it would raise concerns like that... anyway, having already over explained too much, the point is that it's not going that way.)
> 
> Anyway - enjoy!

Every mission comes in difference phases. They both knew this. And, without having to say a word, they both knew they were about to start a different stage of this thing.

The time had come to decide where it was going to end.

And it was complicated.

And it involved some risks.

And it meant them taking responsibility for that choice, and all the other choices that came with it.

But still, they both knew where they were with this.

They were both thinking the same thing. That there was no option to go back to the room and think about this, no way they could carry on covertly gathering intel, no chance their cover wouldn’t be blown in a few hours, one way or the other. Now, they had one simple choice. Decide to intervene themselves – or get out of the situation, and hand it over.

They paused in the lobby of the second floor, a few feet from the bottom of the stairs. Tony glanced at the politely-bored young woman, waiting to accept invitations. Then at the double doors on the upper landing, the electronic keypad and the security camera. Then he looked at Steve.

They both knew that, if they did this thing now, they would have to do it a certain way. They no longer had the option of laying out an elaborate lie, or shielding the staff from any unpleasantness, or taking the time to conceal that they’d even been there. They knew they _could _get past the security here, that they’d be able to get to the fourth floor and _probably_ able to end this thing, before anyone had a chance to stop them. But that would mean taking certain risks and deciding on more combative action, and all the associated moral issues that come with overpowering a coat-check girl.

Those risks would probably be fewer, if the rest of The Avengers were here. That moral obligation would be shared, if not lessened, if they called their superiors and followed correct protocol. But, even as Tony was thinking that, a whole _new_ list of risks and issues was running though his head – the time it would take and the fact that the others weren’t briefed and _all_ the issues with getting the authorities involved…. The higher moral responsibility they had – the buck that couldn’t be passed, whatever a law said about it.

They knew they had two messy, imperfect solutions on the table here – but there were just the two, and they knew exactly what each of them meant and they knew the time had come to pick one.

And Tony was even pretty sure they were thinking the same thing about that…

…That they were _even_ thinking the same things about why it was important to stop and ask the question anyway…

And it occurred to Tony that… They’d always had so much in common. He’d just always been too preoccupied with the differences to pay attention to that. He’d never sat there and listed _all_ the many moments there had been, when they could talk like this without saying a word, or when they _had_ understood what the other was thinking, or they had made each other feel better. They’d never spent an hour shouting at each other about all the things they agreed on, all the principles and priorities they shared… those must’ve seemed obvious, maybe… or maybe it was never the point of the conversation they were having…

But maybe it should’ve been, at least sometimes.

Because Tony suddenly had the impression that he’d focused so hard on the places they disagreed, and the differences between them, and the experiences they didn’t share, that he’d blown them out of all proportion. That he’d somehow failed to grasp what incredibly strong foundations they’d been building, even when it’d _seemed_ like things were hopeless. Like he’d been standing in St Pauls Cathedral and fretting about the state of the window frames. 

And he wondered… If, when they’d sat down to discuss The Accords… or ULTRON, or life after the fall of SHIELD, or…_anything…_ if they’d started out with, _first, what do we agree on…_

…Yeah, that might’ve been a better start-

But, of course, he couldn’t get carried away with that, because they had to decide on phase two.

“Do you think there’s any way this goes better if we report it back right now?” Steve was the one to say it.

Because the fact that he didn’t support The Accords, and the fact that might not want to cede authority to a government, and the fact that he might want to keep the right to make that choice himself, didn’t mean he couldn’t ask that question. Didn’t mean he had dismissed all other opinions or objected to the very idea of others input or that he didn’t think other people had rights to consider, too. None of this had _ever_ been mutually exclusive…

“No, not really.” Tony answered, honestly. “On this occasion, I don’t see anything the team or even the government could provide that’d be a better bet than us going in now. They don’t know what this special project is any more than we do, so they can’t provide us with any specific back up. They’re just as likely to make things worse – and I think they’d say that. I think if you gave any of them the facts, and asked them for the optimal solution, they’d say it was to get in as quickly and as quietly as they could, and find out as much as they could, before taking this thing down the best way they could. And that’s us going in now. So.”

Because Tony had always thought that, accepting you may one day have to bend the rules didn’t mean you couldn’t want the rules to exist. Just because he’d wanted it stated, in advance, what the punishments would be, didn’t mean he’d never be prepared to risk them. And he still thought The Accords were the best of the available options, flawed though they may be. He still though the best way was to work on them, and start creating a fair set of rules for everyone. And, yes, he still thought – on this occasion – the safest hands were still their own. None of _that_ had ever been mutually exclusive either…

In fact, now that he thought about it…

A lot of the things they’d shouted at each other-

A lot of the principles they each held dear-

A lot of the things they wanted to see in the future-

They might not have been the same, but they weren’t mutually exclusive…

And, again, he’d have loved to think more about that right now – but they had a world to save. So.

“Right, let’s give ourselves as much lead time as we can” Steve started, and took a brief tally of all the other guests in the lobby, and then glanced at the girl at the bottom of the stairs again. “How’re you at pretending to be drunk?”

Tony just grinned.

Steve took the sedative cloth out of his pocket, and concealed it in his palm, and they both strolled confidently over to the staircase.

“Hi.” Tony smiled broadly, already gesturing too widely.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She smiled back, snapping to customer-service mode in an instant.

“We need to get up to the third floor.” Tony explained fluidly – pointing in the other direction entirely. “Well, actually, we need to get up to the fourth floor, but, you know, third floor first.”

“Oh, I’m sorry” She winced, “It’s invitation only, I’m afraid – safety reasons”

“Oh, we know,” Tony answered, perfectly cheerfully “It’s just, if anyone looks back to the security footage of this in the next few minutes, we want it to look as though we were just chatting to you about something else when you passed out.”

And her smile froze on her face for a second, and then flickered, and then she frowned. Tony could see her trying to make sense of all the contradictions – the competent way he was speaking versus the way he was swaying on his feet… the pleasant tone he was using to say such ominous words…

“Excuse me?” She asked eventually, still maintaining the professional countenance.

“Well, actually, the security footage should be cutting out intermittently throughout the building, about now.” Tony breezed on, making sure _not _to glance at his watch... “And, hopefully, that means no one will think to pay too much attention to this lobby, and no one will see where we went after you pass out, and if they check back they’ll just see you chatting to a drunk guy who then wandered off – and, all in all, that should mean they don’t make the connection, and no one raises an alarm, and they won’t come looking for us. For a little while at least.”

And, as that was probably long enough, he glanced at Steve.

“You’ve got a…” He muttered gently, gesturing to her cheek – before reaching forward as though to brush a hair from her face. She didn’t even think to move away, before she was overcome by the sedative.

Tony immediately slumped against the closest wall, letting his eyes fall shut as Steve shouted a surprised little ‘_oh_’, and caught her.

He opened them again to watch Steve waving the nearest guests over, doing a reasonable impression of shocked and socially awkward. As expected, most of them were too drunk or too disinterested or too awkward themselves to acknowledge him – and, of course, as soon as one brave woman came to his aid, everyone else considered themselves off the hook and went back about their business.

Tony closed his eyes again and listened, as Steve implored,

“I’m sorry – could you go and get a member of staff?”

“What happened?” The woman gasped – clearly a little tipsy herself.

“I don’t know. I was asking where I could get help with _him_, and she just…” Steve explained with a baffled little breath. “And I don’t want to leave her here – and _he’s_ in no state for me to leave here, more to the point.”

Tony recognised a potential cue and decided to go with it. He took a heavy step upright, and went to stumble off to the left of the room. And Steve caught on immediately, and yelled after him in exactly the right tone,

“_Babe,_ no, don’t – can you just-”

And Tony turned around, and flashed what probably did look like a very drunken grin – because Steve had just called him _babe_.

And, okay, that was probably just so that this woman couldn’t tell anyone their names… But it still made him feel giddy to hear it, and that suited the act right now. So. Silly grin it was.

“_Stay_.” Steve warned him, in an exasperated-but-affectionate voice. Then he turned back to the woman. “Sorry, do you mind just getting someone to help her, please?”

“Right, yeah, one minute.” She said, already walking off.

They gave it two seconds, checked that everyone still had their gaze averted, and sprinted up the stairs before anyone’s fear of being involved was overcome by their curiosity.

“These cameras all out of action?” Steve muttered, as Tony found the right security code on his file reader, and typed it onto the keypad.

“Mm-hm.” Tony nodded. “Along with half the camera’s in The Facility, for a few minutes at a time.”

There was a soft _click_ as the doors unlocked. Steve put his ear to the wood and strained to listen. Then he opened the door a crack, to check. And then he looked at Tony. Tony nodded.

They slipped inside – both of them subconsciously putting their hands over the patches on their forearms. Tony could swear there was still a little rush of exhilaration, as they crossed the threshold… But it _was_ much more manageable, now.

This room looked very different, now that he could look at it with more sober eyes…

He looked at Steve to lead the way, knowing that no one was better at memorising and navigating terrain than he was. He marvelled at the way Steve didn’t have to pause – barely had to glance at his surroundings – to find them a way round to the back of the building… To where they’d successfully guessed that the staircase to the fourth floor would be.

They stopped to look at one another again. There was no question to be asked anymore – just a terrifying moment to be shared.

Tony _knew_ he could feel an additional tingling on his skin. An edge on his nervousness, something he was sure was more than the natural response. He thought back to what Maribelle told them, _People are, uh, very edgy about even going to close to – I mean, I genuinely don’t know what you’ll find after…_

And he knew that Steve was feeling the same anxiety.

And he knew that Steve was thinking the same thing.

And that helped, a bit.

And, actually, as they ran up the stairs Tony started to think they were going to get away with it. The feeling on his skin didn’t grow as they reached the landing, the way it had the night they’d been invited to the third floor. He didn’t find it hard to concentrate, while he worked on breaking the security code on the next set of doors. There wasn’t a sudden surge of euphoria or panic when they slid open, no strong smell, no physical reaction… Just a normal swell of relief, thinking that maybe the patches did work up here too, that maybe they’d just be able to get in and out after all.

And then they got in, and found themselves in a huge, white room. The end furthest from them was open, save for a low iron railing, which obviously overlooked something further down – something they couldn’t see from here. Beyond that Tony could just about make out a wall of lights and shadows, also white, moving in and out of focus as his brain struggled to make sense of the dimensions. And then Tony’s eyes adjusted, or caught some sort of flicker, and he realised – the three walls this room did have weren’t walls at all. They were screens, all switched on and set to a blank white channel.

And he glanced at Steve, and quirked an eyebrow.

And Steve smiled.

And then they both just burst out laughing.

All of a sudden, being in this room was about the most ridiculous, most surreal, most _hilarious_ thing that Tony had ever experienced. For a good few minutes, it didn’t occur to him to question it. It seemed perfectly obvious what was so funny, this was a perfectly reasonable reaction… it was _nice,_ actually. It felt exactly like getting the giggles in the middle of a perfectly mundane task… Except he’d forgotten all about the task, he had no concept of what they were doing or where they were or what came after laughing like this…

And then his ribs started to ache, and he had to think about this breathing, and the laugher began to ease off – out of physical necessity, at first…

But then that left room for that little flicker of revelation – that little chill-

_Oh, that’s not normal._

_…That’s not good._

*

It was watching Tony’s face fall that put the same idea into Steve’s head…

…That he didn’t know what he was laughing _at_

…That he didn’t know if he _should_ be laughing right now

And then he had the vaguest pull of recollection – no, he was sure he _shouldn’t_ be laughing, right now

…He was _sure_ he should remember what he should be doing.

“This isn’t good.” Tony commented – and, weirdly enough, it did help. It pulled Steve out of his own head, back into a strange situation he was sharing with someone else… a situation that physically existed-

Okay, that’s a good start.

“What’re we doing?” Steve tried pulling things into order, grabbing for what he thought was a priority question.

“Something about alien slaves.” Tony spoke carefully, “and special drug projects-”

“FOCUS!” Steve remembered suddenly.

“I am trying.” Tony answered so seriously, Steve _had_ to laugh-

_Oh, no, no, no, you have not to laugh._

_Focus-_

Oh, yeah.

“No, _FOCUS_.” Steve corrected, still giggling. “Zan gave us four, and we only took two with us that night.” He reached deep into the bottom of his pocket, really hoping that he’d remembered – but, _yes_. “And I have the other two”

“You thought to bring these?” Tony smiled.

“I have _everything_ in these pockets” Steve answered… beginning to recognise the fluid, animated way he was speaking…

“Get rid of that.” Tony commented suddenly, and Steve had to look to realise that he’d pulled the sedative cloth out while he was searching.

Steve threw it over to the left of the room, immediately, just because Tony had told him to. Tony snorted another laugh.

“Why?” Steve asked, belatedly.

“Because the state we’re in now, I don’t trust either of us not to sneeze into it or something” Tony grinned – and _Steve_ laughed-

Their eyes met-

“_FOCUS_” They said, together, both looking down at the two little packets in Steve’s palm.

“The last time I took this, I think I ended up focusing _away_ from the mission…” Tony remembered, frowning.

“Yeah, but can you remember what the mission _is_ right now?” Steve countered.

“…_sort of_” Tony squinted. “Okay, we have no option. Good point.”

So, they each popped the pill free of the paper packaging, and swallowed roughly.

Steve closed his eyes, and tried to make himself think what the mission was…

…And when that started to come more naturally, he began listing out the plan…

…that was unfolding in his mind, _so_ quickly now-

He opened his eyes, his whole body tensed and alert– and saw Tony looking up at the screens with a determined, inquisitive frown on his face.

“…There must be some sort of interface system, for this…” He mused to himself. And Steve smiled, softly,

_That’s my man._

“Come on, let’s see.” Tony muttered, walking quickly and carefully toward the railing. Steve fell in step beside him, both of them slowing up as they got closer, trying to get a subtle look at what was down there before anything down there could see them.

But what they found immediately drew them closer. A basic instinct, like rubber necking at an accident. The wall at the back of the room was actually made up of hundreds of cells, which extended all four floors down or maybe even further, like this whole wing had been built onto the outside of The Facility. The drop below the railing overlooked a network of walkways, connecting the floors of cells to various landings, where computer screens and lab equipment were set up. Most of the cells looked to be empty… But, when Steve scanned from top to bottom, he caught the shape of a few people either lying on the mattresses within, or sitting on the floor, unmoving, their eyes fixed on the middle distance –

_People_, he noted – not Varians. In fact-

“That’s Andrew” Tony whispered, recognising him at the same moment Steve did “Vanessa’s husband.”

He looked terrible. Almost pale enough to blend into his surroundings, save for the dark circles that Steve could see under his eyes, even from here. His hair hung limp and greasy around his face, and if it weren’t for the eerily metronomic tapping of his foot on the floor, Steve would’ve worried he was actually dead… And then his eyes caught a movement on the walkway just below Andrews cell.

“Varians” He whispered to Tony, gesturing to two small, blue-skinned men in white coats, walking away from them, over to one of the computers… where three more, similarly professional looking Varians were already standing…

“Well, they aren’t slaves” Tony muttered, stepping back from the edge again and looking around the room. And then his eyes fell on a little black panel, built into the railing. “…Ah-ha.”

Steve went between glancing over the balcony, and glancing at Tony, as he booted up the system and began trying command after command to get a response. And then his eyes lit up.

“Oh, hello… this is an AI.” He looked up at Steve “A _very_ rudimentary one… It’s not capable of forming judgements or interpreting human emotive cues – but the responses are clearly aimed to learn from the user…” As he was talking, his fingers were dancing over the screen, his tone drifting away from Steve and into talking to himself…

Steve was taken by surprise, by just how much his heart swelled at that – it was just _so _Tony, so everything Steve wished he could tell him…

“…And if it’s an AI this basic, it’s probably using basic over-rides…” Tony continued to muse, getting down on his knees to look at the back of the computer panel, “…So, if I force reset it…” He held his watch to the back of the panel, and waited, and then stood up to look at the screen – tapping the edge of it impatiently, while something loaded… And then he smiled. He held his thumb down on the screen, and said in a loud, clear voice.

“Tony Stark”

And then the screen flashed, and Tony’s smile widened – and when Steve looked over his shoulder, he could see the message on the monitor: _Voice pattern accepted -_ _Welcome Tony Stark, How Can I Help You?_

“Load _all_ Facility files” Tony suggested, his arms outstretched in a _we’ll see what happens_ gesture – and, one by one, the screens around them began to flash as file after file opened itself…

And Tony beamed up at Steve, more delighted by the success of his puzzle than he was in himself for solving it – and Steve really thought he was going to say, _I love you._ That’s what he opened his mouth for-

“I’m sorry about JARVIS”

…And then that came out of it.

From _literally_ nowhere-

“Really?” Tony blinked. Touched, and… surprised?

“Yeah, of course I am” Steve frowned… which then softened into a sad smile, as he realised “…I’m sorry I never said that, before. I didn’t… well, I still don’t really understand what that loss meant, really. If I’m being honest. But I know it was one, and, yeah, thinking about it, I should have said…”

“I’m sorry about Peggy” Tony answered – which caught Steve a little off guard, somewhat. And then Tony saw his face, and shook his head, and added “Sorry, that probably sounded… random – there was a link in my head, I swear. Well. Just that… I didn’t really know how to say that at the time, either. I remember thinking, _at the time_, I should say… but, what with everything that was going on, and… to be honest, I never felt like I could understand that loss for you, either – which was the link, by the way…”

And Steve felt this little lift inside him… taking the weight of something…

_I thought you’d not even thought of it, at the time_

_I thought you didn’t even notice_

And he realised… that was obviously what Tony had been thinking, when he mentioned JARVIS

And he wondered… How _many_ of their issues would’ve been resolved, if they’d just _said_…

And he remembered…

“Focus” He said, looking pointedly at the screen while Tony shook himself to his senses.

“Yes, right. Okay.” He breathed, taking them all in at a sweep. “Okay, we need a more useful command…” And then he looked back to the panel, “Okay, load all files on the history of The Facility, or Mallamen, or Anni Vara. Left side of the left wall.”

And all the files loaded – on the right side of the right wall.

“Ah, rookie mistake” Tony noted. “See, he’s not taught the system the difference between his left and it’s left – and then, rather than correcting it, he’s obviously just adapted for it, which really isn’t the point of an AI” And then he caught Steve’s eye, and then he caught himself “_Or_ what we’re here to do, so, yeah-” And then back to the clear, unnatural voice “And load _all_ files on the master project, or the main project, or the priority project – and if nothing matches that, load all research files and reports.” Tony winced that last part, like he wasn’t sure if he was pushing his luck “Right side of the left wall”

And, the screens next to the previous files lit up.

“Well, _I’m_ not going to correct it” Tony explained, already walking over “C’mon, you’re the speed reader – you do the wordy bit, I’ll do the science bit.”

The room fell quiet for a few moments, while they both did their best to make sense of the information in front of him. Steve didn’t _feel_ much like he was speed reading. But, with a lot of effort and the last dregs of the drugs, Steve was able to make his way through a good few pages of background information… He pushed himself until he realised he’d just read the same sentence three times, and recognised that he’d reached some sort of limit. That he’d better say what he _had_ read, out loud, to Tony – or else he’d lose it completely.

“Okay, so, from the looks of this – this is mostly stuff the Adam’s have recorded, from what the ‘Mallamens’ have told them… So, I think that’s Zan’s family name… So, maybe this is all lies – _but_.” And he took a little breath, and forced himself to look back at the beginning of his research, as a prompt. “I’m pretty sure Mallamen isn’t a city, as we’d think of it… I think it’s more like an estate… I think this building is like a Manor house, and the surrounding area is actually like a private estate… the Mallamen estate… has been here a thousand years, looks like – I think it _did_ used to be a resort. I think Zan’s family have been doing research here for years – or at least, making these drugs for years…”

He looked over to see if Tony was listening to him – his best guess was that Tony was trying very hard to…

“It has conveniently few details about what happened _just_ before The Adams took over – looking at this, you’d think that the place was just always staffed by slaves… But, yeah, there’s a written agreement… wow, _ten years ago_, between The Mallamens and… it just says ‘Adam’. Adam can use their facility… hence the name, I guess… and their employees _and_ their labour?”

And they looked at one another, and then looked back at the railing, and sighed.

“So, they have slaves – and they also have willing employees.” Tony summarised.

“…Former estate staff, I think” Steve added, glancing at the screen “The people who worked here when the troops were enslaved, maybe?”

“And stayed loyal?”

“Or believed in their insane ideology from the start.”

“Or were scared, or threatened into helping…” But Tony didn’t sound especially convinced by his final suggestion. His shoulders slumped, heavily, with a weariness Steve could feel soaking into his own muscles. “So, there are Maribelles and SS Guards on every planet, then.”

“I honestly don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse” Steve exhaled. Then he looked at Tony’s screen. “What did you get.”

And Tony winced.

“Ah. Well.” And then he sighed, _where to begin_, “Okay, so, I _think_, the whole point of the special project is to find drugs that can not only be cultivated on earth – but that also change the eco system”

“Change the eco system” Steve repeated, unimpressed.

“I _think_, the aim of this ‘special project’ is to try to literally turn earth into Anni Vara – to find the plants that will grow on earth and _change _it… so that we have a background effect from our air and water too… I _think_. But…” And Tony looked back through some of the files, his frown deepening the whole time. “…I don’t know, this whole thing reads like it was put together by someone who is mentally ill. And I don’t mean ‘this is madness’. I mean, like… The research itself is all perfectly sound, dry, research files… But the notes on these files, and the way they’ve been grouped together – and there are these, like, little monologues filed in here, as though they _are_ research files…but, when you read them…” And he stood aside to show Steve, a whole page of neatly typed notes, which Steve tried very hard to pay attention to,

_The key distinction that must be drawn is that some free of shame doesn’t actually make a spectacle of themselves – indeed, being free of shame means that one doesn’t, that one is free of the need to, at least once the burden of shame is removed from perfectly healthy expressions of humanity. Once Tabula Rasa resets the world of religious doctrine, gender disparity, heteronormative values and the media driven concepts of narrative, the only expression of shame can be gloating, showing off – trying to banish personal shame we feel on an animal level. This leaves us with the option of Tabula Rasa before, after or during – except, in itself, it does not…_

Steve was just beginning to get lost in it, when Tony cut in again,

“And the thing is… I can’t explain this – I can almost see this guy losing his mind. Or, I don’t know – disappearing into it? These notes, they start off much more coherent… and then it’s like he, I don’t know, starts skipping out the joining bits… and then starts just, dropping in things in that he’s not mentioned before – and the tone of these little memos get’s more and more, I don’t know, desperate?” Tony sighed, struggling to describe the feeling he was getting from all of this.

“What’s Tabula Rasa?” Steve squinted, spotting it again on another screen.

“I don’t know – that’s one of the things that just starts coming up, after a while. I can’t find an explanation for it, either.” Tony shrugged. “That, and Genesis Day, which I can’t tell if that refers to an actual day, or a drug, or what…”

“So, just to summarise.” Steve exhaled, wearily “We have a family of potentially evil aliens, with one potentially less evil member, who enslaved another group of aliens, with the help of some other probably-not-evil-but-certainly-complicit aliens. They partnered up with a coloniser named Adam, who might have been evil, or might’ve just been cold hearted, but who is probably now mentally ill. He has hired some probably-not-evil-but-certainly-complicit pharmacists, who think they’re working on a capitalist plan, but who are actually working on what is probably an evil plan, written by a mentally ill person who thinks it’s a good plan – _is that about it?_”

And Tony just burst out laughing again.

And Steve felt himself smile along with him, suddenly overwhelmed with the ridiculousness of this situation, the _need_ to share that with someone – the warm feeling of knowing he’d made Tony laugh.

“Is this some sort of _exam?_” He carried on, his tone deliberately exaggerated now “_In the below situation, who are you fighting and who are you saving and who just happens to fucking be there?_ I mean – do The Accords have anything about this? I don’t remember anything that would even remotely relate to this – _and why is Andrew in a cage?_”

By now, Tony had his face buried in his hands, laughing so hard that his shoulders were shaking… And Steve felt a fit of giggles growing under his words, just at how _much_ Tony was laughing.

“Honestly – what ever happened to _common sense_? I know people ask, _who are you to decide what’s right,_ but, really, I’m _just_ saying that you shouldn’t drug bomb planet earth, or enslave and then kill a bunch of people, I mean – do people – do you _have_ to justify that? Is that not – a given…” And he just gave up, and laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

“Oh, God, no, we have to stop this” Tony panted, eventually, his voice pained and his eyes red.

“No, I know, mission. Important.” Steve agreed, wiping tears from his face.

“Stop the drug bombing of earth – _we think_ – and stop the enslavement and killing of an alien race” Tony confirmed, still catching his breath.

“Definitely stop the Mallamens” Steve nodded. “I think we’re as sure as we can be that Zan was telling the truth about the slaves – and probably what her mom is planning to do to them… But we’re not sure about what the special project is?”

“Well, no – but I think we’re sure it’s not good.” Tony gestured to the screens “And I think we have enough evidence that there is someone with serious problems, and far too much power – including, apparently, the power to lock people in cages… So yeah, I think we can be sure about putting a hard pause on this place, at least.”

“And we’re handing the Mallamens over?” Steve checked.

“Well, assuming we can figure out how to, and unless we have any evidence that it’d be a moral problem to do that, then yeah – unless you’ve got a better idea?” And it did sound like a genuine, well intentioned question. Which Steve just answered.

“Not really, no.” He sighed. “And, as for what happens to anyone else…”

“That.” Tony suggested dramatically “Is probably a question we should better consider when we are not drug fucked.”

Steve snorted another laugh, and then forcibly stopped himself.

“Okay. Do you still want to back up this research?” Steve asked.

“That was the plan before we got here, and I have not got the capacity to reconsider it” Tony told him outright.

“…Because we need it as evidence.” Steve remembered.

“And because we didn’t want to delete anything if we weren’t sure what it really was… or if there were other copies of… We said we were going to back it up” Tony gave up, mid-sentence.

“You know how to do that?”

“Er… Oh, if I think very hard about it, I do…” Tony groaned petulantly, squinting back at the computer panel.

“But can you shut it down?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I can do that…” Tony thought aloud. “Cut all the artificial drugs being pumped into the air and the water… turn off any security protocols… Was there anything else?”

“Make sure we collect all the evidence, cut the chemical warfare, call the Avengers in to help shut this place down properly.” Steve ran his checklist out loud. He felt sure the plan was longer than that, originally… but that seemed like the gist. So.

“Okay – back up files and stop making me laugh.” Steve told him – already having to pinch his lips together again.

“Okay – stay there and see if you can read anything else useful while I’m doing it.” Tony suggested, as he walked back over to the panel.

“I can barely read, right now” Steve commented, and Tony giggled – and then shot him a warning look that just made Steve want to smile more.

“Okay, you want to do something useful – try coming up with an answer for when someone asks, _so, what happened at The Facility_”

“Don’t!” Steve tried to give him a stern look – but, nope, he was giggling again…

“Well, this is just typical.” Tony commented, “I’ve spent _seven years_ trying to get you to laugh, and the first time I manage it-”

“This is not the first time you’ve made me laugh” Steve corrected him, like that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard.

“When did I ever make you laugh before this?” Tony challenged… And Steve couldn’t believe that wasn’t an easier question…

“All the time.” Steve surrendered, when he couldn’t come up with a specific example. Just the general feeling that, “You’re probably the funniest person I ever met”

And Tony did a literal double take, and stopped what he was doing, and just looked at Steve for a second.

“I have _literally_ spent the best part of a decade trying to make you laugh!” He told him, with a comedic incredulity “I actually sat there and tried to think what you found funny, what I’d seen you laugh at from other people – because you _never_ laughed, when I told a joke. You actually did the _opposite_ of laughing, most the time. You’d go all… stiff, and…_tense jawed_, like-”

“Like I was trying _really_ hard not to laugh…?” Steve realised, suddenly.

And Tony blinked at him.

“…Well, I always just assumed I’d offended you…” He said, as though to himself. And then his lips curled into a smile again as he thought back through all his memories, and realised… “But, yeah, actually, we’re both just _the_ most clueless-”

And Steve burst out laughing _again_, and then so did Tony. He just about managed to add, _I think our combined IQ is somewhere around the 500 mark_\- between gasps, and giggles – but then it was hopeless.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, we _really_ have to stop with this!” Steve finally managed after a good ten minutes.

And the answer came in a calm, soft voice - from behind him.

“Why?”

Steve and Tony both snapped to attention, turning to face the man who was watching them from just a few feet away. A tall man with a round, kindly face and a solid body, dark olive skin and eyes that looked worn rather than wrinkled… It was impossible to guess how old this man was, or where he was from, or even what level of strength he might have been concealing, under his lab coat.

“You know, there is only one dream that is really worth having.” The man carried on, in the same wise, unhurried tone. “To be happy every day for the rest of your life.” And he looked at each of them in turn, with the same benevolent smile. “And you seem so happy, at the moment – and yet your instinct is to stop?”

Steve looked over to Tony, standing just behind him now. He saw Tony sigh in recognition, and then look over at the man with a faux-cheerful smile.

“Hi. You must be Adam.” He said, with mock-politeness. Adam just gave a stoic nod. “I’m Tony, this is Steve”

Steve looked at Adam, trying to maintain a serious glare. Adam just smiled back.

And then he told them, simply,

“I know who you are.”


	18. Chapter 18

_I know who you are_.

And, honestly, Steve had to pinch back a laugh, just at that. It was just _so_ ominous, so serious, so… _on the nose_, it was-

And _then-_

“Well, yeah, we’re both pretty famous.” Tony deadpanned.

And it really didn’t help, that it was an especially silly giggle that escaped Steve right then.

And Adam just… smiled.

A _genuine_ smile… Like he was happy for them.

…Like he _knew_ them.

It was enough to stop the laughter in Steve’s chest. Enough to extinguish all the warmth in him, somehow…

“Well, I’d heard of you, before. Obviously. I do keep up with the events of planet Earth.” Adam answered, calmly, after a pause.

“But you don’t mean that.” Steve said, more soberly. He felt Tony straighten, just behind him, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Adam.

“I mean only that I’ve paid attention to you both, as guests of my facility.” He clarified softly. Like he’d intended to reassure them. Like he was humouring any silly fears they may have had about something more sinister…

The kindly way he was behaving was more sinister than anything Steve had ever come up against.

“And I notice, you’re both much better, for being here.” Adam added, matter-of-factly.

“You can’t keep that close an eye on everyone in this place.” Steve added, “You’ve been watching us.”

“Oh, I don’t deny, I’ve taken a particular interest in you both, since you arrived.” Adam answered, taking a lazy step into the room. “For all sorts of reasons. There is a great potential in you two – really, that’s why I allowed you to come in the first place. I knew your referral was false, obviously … and, of course, it occurred to me that you might therefore have nefarious reasons for being here. Or, maybe you were just curious. Maybe you wanted to see this place, and couldn’t get a referral… you see, I didn’t _have_ to worry about that.”

He took another step closer, firming his casual posture slightly, his tone slipping from personal conversation to personable presentation.

“When I first came here, I was hoping to find new drugs. New ways to make myself rich. I told everyone I was going to expand human knowledge and push the limits of science and bring back things that would make the world a better place… and I suppose they all knew it was a code, for wanting to pad my own legacy and stroke my own ego… but they accepted this, all of this, because we all think that’s what happiness _is_. And, when I _had_ power, and money, and the potential to become a renowned scientist… I was never happy. Back then, I _did_ have to worry who might sneak into my facility, and why. I had to fret over what people secretly thought of me, and plan how to hold on to what I had, and panic over how to get even more…. But then, I _saw_ Anni Vara.” And he expanded his arms, like he was preaching from a pulpit, glancing up to the sky before he carried on.

“I realised… The people here are _truly_ happy. They have already attained a peace and a contentment – the satisfaction I wrongly believed that material gain could bring me, because of what I had been taught… I found myself, honestly and completely at peace, for the first time in my life. All because of the effect of this world and the perspective it offered. And, as a result of this new perspective, I realised… I wanted to share this thing. Not for profit, not for gain of any kind… I wanted everyone to feel what I felt. I changed. I stopped researching what would make me rich, and I started looking into what would make the world better… If Earth had the same eco system as Anni Vara, Earth would be better. You know that.”

And he looked at Steve, and then at Tony, like he was waiting for an answer.

They looked at each other, momentarily thrown.

“And _I _know that.” Adam carried on, when neither of them said anything. “I _know_, now, what it is _right_ to do – and I _know_ that I will do it. Because I know this plan hasn’t been corrupted by the usual human failings. I know I haven’t been misled by false ideology, or false perceptions. I know I’m not motivated by irrational self-interest. I know I have planned for every part of this. So, you see, I don’t have to worry _why_ you’re here. I _can_ let you come here, and trust that you will come to see what I have… because, if not… well, there are contingencies, for that.”

“So, you want to cultivate these plants on planet Earth, so that people on Earth stop worrying about material things, and are just… happy?” Tony clarified, carefully. And Adam chuckled, warmly.

“Well, it’s a _bit_ more complicated than that,” He smiled, indulgently. “The atmosphere, the _culture_ of Anni Vara is a product of many interconnected components, all of which have to be understood and replicated and adapted for human biology. The Facility is very much a work in progress. And I’m proud of it, and the experience we offer here… but it’s not quite the same, as being a Varian, on this planet. The peace they have is about much more than a freedom from material concern. They are free from shame. They have a mastery over their emotions, an understanding and command of their phycology….” His affect was outright reverential now, his words increasingly aimed at the white space above their heads. “But we’ll get there. We’ll find the right mix of components, we’ll perfect the education that will have to go along with it… We’re maybe two years away from Genesis Day – less, if we continue to appeal to such interesting research subjects as yourselves….”

And he looked them up and down, slowly, in a way that was entirely nonsexual but still triggered the same visceral discomfort…

“So, Genesis Day is an actual _day_ then.” Tony carried on sharply – fronting out Adams insidious suggestion. Refusing to engage it. “The ‘day’ you transform earth?”

“Of course not” Adam grinned “You _know_ that you can’t cultivate an eco-system on a single day. Doing that will take years, and the co-operation of everyone on Earth.”

“And you know you’ll never get everyone on Earth to do that…” Steve prompted.

Adam breathed out another laugh. Wiser, somehow… or just sadder, it was hard to say.

“Can you imagine” He started, theatrically, “If the Varians – or, even us, if _we_ had discovered the chemical formula for ‘reasonableness’. A harmless drug that a person could take, after which they would simply be more _reasonable_. More inclined to listen, more willing to see things from another’s perspective, less influenced by their own emotions and fears? You would think such a thing would be welcomed, lauded, that the world would be an immediately be a better place – but, of course, it wouldn’t. People would _refuse_ to take that drug – because they hadn’t taken it yet.” And he sighed a little laugh, “People would _revolt_ at the idea of any man taking it upon himself to spike the water supply with that… until after it happened. _Then_, they would unite in celebration of such an act – and in planning to make the most of it. Then, they would work together to build a new world…”

“So Genesis Day is the day you drug everyone on Earth with ‘reasonableness?’” Tony exhaled, growing ever wearier with this cryptic guessing game.

“Alas, there is no such drug” Adam shrugged. “The concept of reasonableness is not something you can quantify… its’s a question outside of the sphere of this project. But, what you _can_ do, is make people _forget_ all the unreasonable ideas they had before.”

And, with that, he walked confidently over the railing, and beckoned them to follow. They glanced at one another again, and then Tony looked over to the external hard-drive he had plugged into the computer panel… still blinking patiently, as the download continued… The he turned back to Steve and shrugged.

They met Adam at the balcony, and followed his gaze to the cells directly in front of them.

“Computer, override scheduling and administer dose three of Tabula Rasa” Adam announced, looking up at the ceiling.

Nothing happened.

And then he looked at Tony, and frowned… which then melted into a smile that Steve _deeply_ resented.

“You _are_ very clever, aren’t you?” Adam mused, entirely sincerely, looking at Tony the way a teacher might look at a favoured pupil on graduation day. And Steve _saw_ Tony’s skin crawling away from him, like it was begging the rest of him to back down – and, of course, it wouldn’t. Tony stood definitely still, while a protective instinct flared up in Steve, so hot and so immediate that he really _might’ve_ just punched Adam for that – if Adam hadn’t turned away at just that moment, and pulled something like a smartphone out of his pocket. “But, fine…” He muttered, typing a code onto the screen in front of him. “We’ll just do it the long-winded way….”

There was a sudden hydraulic _hiss_ from the wall ahead of them, making both of them flinch to attention. There was a fog of fine grey smoke… _or _gas, descending from the ceiling of each cell. And then, one by one, the people inside seemed to drift back to their senses… And smile, calmly. Andrew stopped tapping his foot, and slumped his shoulders, like he was relieved… A woman in the cell above him stretched, casually, like she’d just woken up from a nap…

“What did you just give them?” Steve asked, coldly.

“It’s a drug called Tabula Rasa. The _key_ to my plans, the key to everything. Not a drug made by Varians, or used by Varians, but made by me from Varian resources and Varian principles. A true collaboration of both worlds – and _it _will enable the total collaboration of our worlds, when the time comes.” Adam explained. “It’s a drug that wipes people’s memories – but, oh, it’s so much more than that.”

And Steve caught the jerking motion of Tony standing up suddenly, the colour already running out of his face by the time Steve looked over to him…

And he realised what Tony had just worked out, and his heart just froze

_Oh, God, he can’t_-

But what if he could? If he really did have a drug that could wipe people’s memories-

If that was his _contingency plan_, if he only felt confident to tell them all these because he knew they weren’t going to remember it

…If they weren’t going to remember _The Facility_ at all-

Steve felt his chest swell up with a sudden panic, a _desperation_ to say something, to explain, to _beg_, anything-

_You can’t, you just can’t_

_If you make it so that neither of us remember this_

_If I have to go back to feeling like that all the time_

_If I never work out all these things that could make me so happy, _

_If you’d just let me know them_

_If you’d just give me the chance-_

Jesus Fuck, they were _so_ close. He’d been so happy, for just those brief few days – he _could_ be so happy, if they could just make it out of this-

_Please don’t take this from me-_

“You can’t just take people’s memories from them” Tony gasped, the first of them to manage some sort of outburst – but Steve could see him struggling with the enormity of his outrage, too.

“Said as someone who hasn’t drunk from the reasonable water yet” Adam commented casually, _patronisingly_ –

And Steve actually had his hand balled into a fist, that time. But again Adam pre-empted him,

“And _that’s_ precisely the point. It _doesn’t _just ‘take people’s memories’ from them, in the way our earthly ‘memory wipe’ drugs do. It’s _not_ a blunt instrument, like that. _This_ drug can be used to target _specific _memories – specific _types _of memory. It doesn’t just carve out a section of time and ‘take it away’. It’s a genuinely therapeutic drug. Take these people, for example.” And he gestured to the cells.

Steve could hardly bring himself to look. He was fighting the growing urge to scream at Adam to shut up – to just let him panic, right now. All traces of his earlier inebriation had completely evaporated under the white-hot fear coursing through him. This creep had the power to destroy _everything. _It was like, all of a sudden, someone had a gun to his head. To Tony’s head. It was pretty hard to concentrate on anything else.

But he had to. He had to know as much about this drug, and this plan, and this man, as he possibly could – now more than he ever had. And he could see Tony thinking the same thing. Looking at the cells with the same pointed effort. The same wet eyed terror clear on his face.

“These people are here because they’ve experienced some negative reactions to being at The Facility. Not physical reactions, mind you. We’re quite sure that there are no _physical_ dangers to any of the drugs we offer. We’ve done extensive testing for that, and all of these people are exactly the same, physiologically, as they were when they joined us. But, of course, there are other considerations. People who have been _so_ conditioned by shame, who have been _so_ indoctrinated by the toxic values of Earth, that they feel badly for what they experience here. You know, the mistake all these people are making – the mistake _all_ people make – is to compare things to what they knew _before_. To try and turn every new revelation into a version of something they know already… That’s the real key, you know. Overcoming humanity’s fear of change. Their reluctance to start afresh. Their instinct to make everything fit into a familiar framework… Once you can make people forget _that_, specifically…”

“So, you’re using these people as lab rats?” Tony spat, his hands gripping the railing so tight that his knuckles were white.

“No, actually” Adam breezed – like he’d expected the question, and had been looking forward to catching Tony out. “If it helps ease your corrupted morality, as it currently stands – _these_ people are all volunteers, in every sense of the word – investors, as a matter of fact. The Luis’, who I believe you’ve met” And he pointed sharply at Andrew, now lounging quite naturally on his bed “have been funnelling money into this place via their daughter for three years-”

“They said they’d only been here six months” Steve interrupted.

“-Ah, yes, well, they think they have” Adam sighed. “You see, when we started out, _before_ we’d realised the potential of Tabula Rasa… People like Andrew would come to us, and say that they were struggling, and all we _could_ do was erase the memories of what they’d done since they arrived here. After consultation. With permission. People who had done these things they wanted to do, and enjoyed them, and suffered no tangible harms because of them, _still_, they asked if we could make them forget…” And Adam shook his head, _silly humans_ “And, actually, those treatment sessions were how we worked out that we could do _more_ than that. That we could actually treat people so that they forget _why_ those things embarrassed them, and not that they did them. It’s a work in progress, I grant you – but steady progress. And, before too long, we should be able to administer a dose to the whole of planet Earth that will make people forget their slavish devotion to ‘the way things should be’. That’s all. They won’t forget who they are, or what they knew, or who they love – just that these plants haven’t always been a fact of life. They’ll forget that they weren’t working on the full potential of these drugs, before.”

“Are you going to make us forget we were ever here?” Tony outright asked, his voice pulled tight, his eyes fixed ahead of him.

“That’s what I’m saying – it doesn’t work like that.” Adam sighed. And then he turned to address the side of Tony’s head. “Although, you should ask yourself – if you’re _so_ desperate to hold on to what you’ve experienced here, and if being here has been so life affirming that you can’t bare to undo it, why are you so sure it’s wrong for the whole world?”

And Tony finally turned to look at him, his eyes hard and dark.

Steve could’ve swore he saw the slightest stutter in Adam’s performance, brief though it had been. That perhaps he’d been just a _little_ unnerved, a little too quick to leap in with his next reassurance,

“But, no, don’t worry – I won’t take this place from you. Not unless I have to, if you _insist_ on pursuing a plan to stop me. I suppose I could, if you were insistent on reporting it back… But, I suspect you won’t be. Not once you’ve forgotten there was anything objectionable about the place. Because you’ve forgotten what your objections were.”

And Steve would’ve liked to have been relieved, at least a little, hearing Adam say he wasn’t going to wipe the last few days from his mind. That, at the very least, Adam wasn’t threatening to take his reconciliation with Tony. But.

“You’re going to make us forget that slavery is objectionable?” Steve asked, a growing unease at the idea that… no, that was even _worse_ than forgetting he’d made up with Tony. As horrific as _that_ thought was, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the idea of forgetting _his objection to slavery_.

“Are you so sure that you _would_ find slavery objectionable, if no one had told you it was?” Adam challenged “Are you sure that if you were forced to look at that with fresh eyes, and listen to the arguments objectively, you’d _work out_ the morality of that, that it’d be the same values you hold now?”

And Steve just stared at him for a second, trying to work out whether Adam had _really_ just asked him if he was sure that slavery was wrong…

“Yes” He answered eventually.

“Then why are you worried?” Adam shot back immediately, a smug look on his face.

“…Because you are planning to re-write the entire ideology of the entire world” Steve struggled to begin, failing to find words for how ridiculous this all was.

“You think I’m mad” Adam observed, casually. “But, really, the only reason you think that is because what I’m telling you falls so far outside of what you already know. You know, human beings invented a communication network that allowed the disenfranchised masses to share their ideas directly, without having to get passed a gatekeeper. Sell their labour directly, without having to impress a corporation or know a network of rich investors. And they fret, in case it ends the bricks and mortar store, and the printed press. Never mind that a system of physical stores and millionaire owned media has, for generations, maintained a system of privilege and patriarchy and capitalism. We _worry_, that we can all have free and equal access to every bit of information of earth. We _worry_ that we can buy art direct from the creators, without having to pay a company to introduce us. In case a handful of privileged pop stars will no longer get to become millionaires, while their record company rakes in billions. We lament the fact that we no longer cut down trees to print physical books, which can’t be read by anyone with a vision impairment or a learning difficulty. We aim to preserve that past, because otherwise, _it will disappear forever_. And we can’t have something harmful disappear forever, because it’s what we know. You know, I’d say that was all pretty _mad_, wouldn’t you?”

And Steve looked at Tony…

And Tony was _thinking_ something… _planning_ something. Steve knew he was.

“All I’m really saying is that the world would be better if it was forced to drop that poisonous glorification of the past. And I didn’t hear any of those ideas from voices in my head. I didn’t hear them from the fairies. It’s perfectly logical that I should think that. Backed up with evidence of man’s behaviour and analysis of the facts. And, based on that, I’ve concluded that the world would be better if people were forced to change. You might not agree with it, until you drink the reasonable water. But how can _you_, of all people, call it mad?”

And he directed his final point right at Steve.

Steve flinched to attention, and Tony snapped out of whatever he’d been thinking – a fierce objection flashing up in his eyes.

“You believe that one man can tear down an evil regime, if he _knows_ that it is wrong – don’t you?” Adam went on, raising his eyebrows.

Steve saw Tony take a step forward, every muscle set, like a tiger about to attack.

“The entire world agreed on a reasonable way forward, based on the concepts of justice and accountability and government that _everyone_ accepted. Elected representatives and experts and your own teammates – but you _knew_ you knew better. And, for what it’s worth, I agree with you about The Sokovia Accords, actually. Ghastly piece of legislation. Quite contrary to _both_ our views on rightness – so, are we _both_ mad?”

“You know what-” Tony tried to intervene, his face twisted in outrage now, his voice just shy of a shout – but Adam still managed to talk over him.

“I _can_ erase your memory, of the last few days” He warned, waving the smart phone at Tony.

Tony stopped dead.

“I prefer not to” Adam carried on, relaxing his arm “But, unfortunately, a more nuanced use of Tabula Rasa takes time, and preparation. If you go to attack me, then I’ll have no choice but to use a blunt instrument – and I gather you don’t want that. So.”

And he shot them another smug look, each in turn, before he continued.

“But you would attack me now, wouldn’t you?” He challenged. “Verbally, at least. You’d shout, and swear now – an expression of your emotions. Not an argument. And that will have no effect on me, I’m afraid. I’m beyond social ideas of shame and superiority, now. Put simply, I have no concern over whether you’re better than I am, or what you think of me.”

“So what do you want from us?” Steve asked, robotically, his chest aching all over again - his fear of losing Tony back on the table, along with everything else. And he looked over at Tony.

He saw Tony swallow down his anger, and look back at him…

And his face flickered again-

That same thoughtful look, that _same_ thought, Steve was sure-

“Would a counter argument effect you, now?” Tony demanded suddenly, in a different voice entirely, before Adam could answer what Steve had said. And Adam just exhaled, softly.

“At this stage, no.” He conceded “_But_ – that is only because I put my personal vanity and concepts of guilt aside, and thought about this in the first place. I _can_ be confident of myself, now – because I allowed myself to doubt, before. I let myself think all the things the average human must shield themselves from, and I considered _every_ part of my plan, and my ideology. And I’m quite sure there is nothing you can say to me now. And, perhaps you think that’s arrogant. But, can you say _you’ve_ done that much, before you decided this was wrong?” And, again, he looked right at Steve – and Steve saw Tony clench his jaw again… but his eyes stayed focused, this time. “And yet, you’re quite sure you _are_ right, and you’ve no qualms about taking it upon yourself to stop me – making a choice for the entire world, in the same way I have, I might add. And if you can do that, and be quite so sure, and not consider yourselves arrogant, then why should I?”

And, as an aside, there was a part of Steve’s head that was _screaming_ at the injustice of all of these arguments. An entirely _lifetime_ of counterpoints, suddenly delirious that this might be their chance to shine – that he might finally have a reason to correct all of that. _Someone_ to correct, for that.

But he couldn’t correct any of that.

He couldn’t do anything, while Adam had that phone in his hand-

His whole future, right there in his hand-

He could only hope that Tony had some plan, when he carried on, calmly,

“So, for example – did you _know_, that the Mallamens enslaved these people in order to make themselves rich and powerful?” Tony challenged – scooting left, ever so slowly. “Did you know that Mrs Mallamen, whatever her name is, is only working with you because she needs someone to blame for her crimes – so that she can avoid prosecution, and ascend to power?”

Adam blinked at him. And then _forced_ a smile.

“I don’t know that simply because you say it’s true.”

“But would it change your mind about anything?” Tony went on, fluidly “To find that the people of Anni Vara _aren’t_ all free from earthly ambition, et cetera, et cetera?”

And Adam set his jaw.

And Steve had worked out that Tony was trying to stall. That he was trying to throw Adam off. That he was building to something more than this one point…

“Okay, different question” Tony suggested, when Adam didn’t answer him. “This Tabula Rasa thing, that _can’t_ possibly work the way you say it does – let’s say, hypothetically, that we took it to forget the _toxic _parts of our relationship”

And Tony took Steve’s hand, as if it was simply an impulse-

And Steve felt the cold press of a little glass object against his palm-

_The intimidate spray…_

“So, there was a night that we spent in a basement, under a warehouse in Chicago, in like 2012, I think? That was about the most wonderful night of my life.” Tony said, taking his hand back subtly –

And Steve immediately knew this was a code.

He knew exactly what night Tony was talking about – and it was up there with the _worst _nights of Steve’s life. And that was saying something. The night he and Tony were forced to spend _eight hours_ locked in suffocating darkness, knowing that several dead bodies were _somewhere_ on the ground around them-

Oh, wait.

He knew what Tony meant.

“But, to be honest, it was a pretty toxic chain of events that lead us there. How would be remember that, exactly? What would we think we were doing there, if we never remembered having that fight?” Tony carried on covering – while Steve did a detailed scan of the environment, and then locked his eyes on Adam, on the phone in his hand, committing every detail to memory-

For when he couldn’t see it anymore.

“What if it just never occurred to you to wonder?” Adam huffed, impatiently. “Whatever revelations you’ve come to this week, whatever you’ve worked out about each other – whatever _fight_ you’ve gotten over… Wouldn’t it be better, if you could keep the conclusion, and forget how you got there?”

And, even over the top of his razor sharp focus, some tiny little part of Steve’s mind noted, for later consideration-

_No, it wouldn’t._

Just hearing Adam say that… Steve understood that he’d never want to forget anything that had happened between him and Tony. Not the confusing bits, not the painful bits, not the embarrassing bits – none of it. He wasn’t sure whether that was the same as wishing it’d never happened… But, what _had_ happened between them – it was the story of Steve’s life. And it had led him here. Right now, Steve felt better about himself and the world than he ever had, and however he got here…

It would’ve been a nice revelation, if he’d had room for it right now.

If he hadn’t been so very focused on not losing it all.

“What if you could say, _completely honestly_, no, he would never hurt me. He never has.” Adam added. And Tony sighed, thoughtfully, as though he meant to answer him.

And Steve braced his legs, and locked his eyes on Adam’s phone.

“I suppose…” Tony breathed, “… I’d say – _Computer, cut all the lights_”

Immediately, the room fell into total darkness.

Steve leapt forward instantly, reaching for where he knew Adams hand was. There was a sharp, disorienting jolt as he crashed into him – Adam swearing viciously under his breath as his phone was thrown out of his grip and sent scattering into the dark.

_I really hope that broke_.

But, as he couldn’t rely on that, Steve also threw a punch to where he’d guessed Adam’s face would now be – feeling the crack of his temple at the edge of his knuckles, not quite a direct hit. There was a hot, wet spray – blood, or spit as Adam hissed another profanity, Steve couldn’t tell.

“Okay computer, turn on the lights” Tony panted – over by the control panel now.

When the lights came back on Steve saw Adam sprawled on his back, blinking furiously against the trickle of blood flowing steadily into his eye.

Steve’s brain calculated the battle strategy on auto pilot now.

Tony was at the panel – shutting the security down, he guessed. He _hoped_. Tony was dealing with their original plan-

_He_ had to deal with the new threat.

He _had_ to stop Adam wiping their memories-

He scanned for the phone-

Lying on the floor, _just_ behind Adam.

Adam was closer – but Steve was faster.

If he moved quickly enough-

But, when he lurched forward, attempting to beat Adam to it – Adam didn’t go for the phone. He threw himself forward and went for _Steve_, pushing his whole weight against Steve’s chest and grabbing at his wrist.

Steve threw his weight behind his left leg, intending to just throw Adam aside. He barely heard him say,

“That won’t work on me”

And there was a sudden, searing pain in Steve’s palm, and a hot burst of blood, as Adam grabbed his hand and smashed the little bottle of intimidate spray into it.

The effect was instantaneous.

The sheer _amount_ of it that Adam had unleashed in one go, the fact that he’d forced it directly into Steve’s blood stream-

The floor just rolled from underneath him. His heart suddenly leapt up into his throat, his head throbbing with a swelling pressure, like it might actually burst.

He felt the dull thud of the floor hitting his knees, the distant echo of Tony calling his name.

He forced himself to look up, trying to blink – struggling to breathe over the physical panic overwhelming him.

He heard Adam panting, and swallowing aggressively, and then he heard him hiss.

“Okay then, _Steve_, let’s see what your deepest fear is, shall we?”

And only then did Steve recognise the _physical_ symptoms suddenly overwhelming him. The dry mouth and the tightening in his chest and the frantic racing of his mind-

Fear.

This is what fear _felt_ like, what happened to his body when he was overcome with terror.

And now that he knew that, his brain jumped in to keep up. A human instinct to place this emotion, now that he’d named it. He _knew_ he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it – he couldn’t stop himself from actively thinking of all the things that scared him, all the things these feelings could attach themselves to-

The fear that Tony would hate him forever, for-

_Oh, no, wait, not that one anymore. Tony doesn’t hate me anymore. He never did._

Okay, but the fear that Tony would find out he loved him-

_…No, not that one either. Actually, that one turned out to be a good thing._

Okay, but the idea of Tony ever finding out those _other _things about him, the complicated, difficult bits he’d spent his whole life running from

_…no… we did that one too_

Yeah, but if _other_ people – the generic fear of letting ‘people’ down, or not-

_No, not scared of that anymore, either…_

And there was a dawning, glowing moment of enlightenment, as Steve realised…

_I’m not scared of anything, anymore._

And, okay, that probably _wasn’t_ true. If he’d stopped to think about it for longer, he’d have remembered all the other things that scared him – _losing _Tony, losing Bucky, losing anyone… But he knew better than to force the issue. The point was that all his ‘biggest fears’, the things that had lurked just under the surface, the things that had leapt up to answer this call… weren’t there anymore. And without that default file to rely on, and without the time to go searching for something else… His brain just blanked on that whole ‘fear’ thing.

Nothing occurred to him.

…But he still _felt _like this.

His heart was still pounding and his lungs were still burning and his body was still _flooded_ with adrenaline

Fight of flight.

And, since there was no ‘flight’ for him to resort to…

He aimed an uppercut right into Adam’s gut – and Adam dropped to his knees like a sack of wet rags. When Steve’s vision finally focused again he saw Adam, red faced and wheezing, and still blinking blood out of his eyes, a foot away from him.

The phone was a few feet away from both of them now. Just waiting for whoever would be quick enough to grab it first.

Steve knew he should grab it first-

But, Jesus, he was just too alert, too alive, to wired to move.

Too furious.

The rush of fear had completely transformed itself into anger now – just as hot, and visceral, and physical. His skin trembled with it, his head swam on it…

He forgot the phone.

He forgot _everything…_

Except everything he’d always wanted to say, to people like Adam-

Everything he was _going_ to say, right _fucking_ now.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the usual caveats apply - everyone is on drugs here.  
Actually, not only is Steve on drugs, but he is somewhat forced into ranting in the first place and in a (not unreasonable) temper... so, please remember that this is not intended to be a rational precis of his point of view, any more than previous outbursts have been entirely accurate interpretations of Tony's frame of mind. I think he has some good points here - but, yeah, the more balanced assessment of those will come in the next update.  
...Really hope you like it.

_I need five minutes. Just give me five minutes._

Steve could hear Tony’s voice echoing from miles away, like he was yelling from the bottom of a very deep well. The words meant nothing. The tone was lost in translation. It didn’t occur to Steve to respond to it, or think about it, or ask Tony to repeat it – it was just background noise to him now. It had faded into the same radio static as the rest of the world, diminished down to nothing by the strength of his rage.

Steve felt it pulsing in his muscles, like it was literally flowing through his veins.

He felt it swelling up in his head, and his chest; a physical pressure that made it hard to breathe.

His mouth was suddenly full of a bitter, metallic taste that he simply couldn’t swallow down.

There were all these hot, sharp words in his head, a lifetime of unspoken argument and unarticulated emotion, all right there...

But Jesus, there was _so_ much.

And the words, they weren’t enough, they weren’t big enough or harsh enough or nasty enough to express this passion surging up in him-

He could hit him.

He _wanted_ to hit him-

Steve felt his hands curl into fists, his shoulders squaring, every muscle in his legs bracing to push him up from his knees-

And then, somewhere, deep, _deep_ inside him, there was that little voice. That most fundamental truth of Steve Rogers.

_Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion_

God, Steve wanted to hit this man – _needed_ to hit this man. He was overwhelmed with such a physical, emotional, _natural_ urge to do that one simple thing-

But he knew if he hit Adam now, he’d kill him. He didn’t _have_ to be capable of conscious thought to understand that. He was more aware than he’d even been of the strength coiling steadily in his body, and it was more than there had been when he’d come up against Thanos – if he hit Adam now, there would be nothing left of him.

And he couldn’t.

He didn’t know _why_ he couldn’t, anymore than he’d processed _why_ he wanted to hit him. It was a basic safeguard, a fundamental principle.

He would not kill this man, just because he was angry.

He would not kill this man, just because he so wanted to-

Not even because he felt justified to do it in the moment.

He would _not_ be a bully.

And then he saw Adam move – just wiping his face again, actually, but it was enough to trigger Steve into responding. He was on his feet in one fluid movement, suddenly glaring down at Adam, his fingers still curling and uncurling as he fought his bodily hatred of the man. He saw Adam still, his eyes widening at the sheer speed with which Steve could move, his body melting away from the physical presence of him. For that brief second, Adam looked entirely different. Smaller. More human, when he dropped the mask of a calm messiah.

And then his face twisted into something else completely. A sheer _nastiness_ that looked almost demonic-

“You’re more scared of me right now than I am of you” Adam sneered.

“You think?” Steve barked, having to forcibly stop himself taking another step closer.

“I _know_” Adam answered, holding his gaze and his voice firm. “Because _I _am immune to that drug coursing through your veins. I’m immune to _all_ the debilitating drugs of Anni Vara. _I _experience only those effects that I so choose, now.” And he contorted his features into such a smug, _smarmy_ expression-

_Don’t kick his head. You’ll crush his skull. You can’t._

“But you’re just _pretending_, aren’t you Steve?” Adam spat. “You’re good at that. You pretend to be good – you say all the ‘good’ things and you play act all the ‘good’ actions, and you think that makes you good. You think if you pretend you aren’t scared, or jealous, or bitter, then you aren’t. Well, guess what Steve? You’re just the same scared, angry, _wrong_ person as anyone else on Earth. Even if you don’t say it – even if you don’t fucking say _anything_.”

_You can’t kick him in the gut right now. You’ll rupture every organ. You can’t. _

“_Captain America, defender of the Status Quo_” Adam carried on taunting “Except when it doesn’t suit you. Happy to take it upon yourself to stop visionaries like me, when _you _don’t like what’s on offer. Happy to fight even those that love you, when _you_ want to shape the entire world to suit your needs”

The computer announced something, a string of unconnected noises happening far, far away… Steve was too busy telling himself not to kill this man. Not even because of the actual words he was saying. Steve _knew_ these words were meaningless, and wrong, and meant to upset him. He knew that he could answer every one of these points, and that Adam wouldn’t listen, and that it wouldn’t matter anyway – he didn’t care what _Adam _thought of him.

But suddenly it was like Adam was every unfair accusation that had _ever_ been thrown at him.

He was the face of every critic, the voice of all the injustice in the world.

He was Zemo, explaining the rules by which Steve deserved to be punished.

He was Ross, calling him arrogant and reckless and irresponsible as he locked the worlds defenders away on a raft, without trial.

…He was Tony, screaming that Steve was a liar, that he could never be trusted with anything ever again.

And if Steve had been capable of rational thought, he’d have been able to put that last one into context. He’d have remembered the reasons Tony had for saying that, the things they’d said to one another since then – all the reasons Tony was so very different to those other people.

But he wasn’t capable of rational thought.

Just that general _feeling_-

_This again._

This moment, standing mute and frozen in the face of an angry monologue, that knowledge that he had to control his reaction, that Captain America couldn’t have an unreasonable reaction and therefore couldn’t let himself react, at all, just in case.

And, in his fury and his misplaced panic, his mind was capable of picking out just the moments that fit this outrage. The individual arguments and actions – whoever they came from – that had contributed to a lifetime of impotent anger. The images that could be pulled into a theme that he’d settled on anyway, a general mood, a _perspective_ on the world that just closed in on him.

This wasn’t like what had happened to Tony, when he took the Fantasia.

This wasn’t a complicated mix of hurt and love and longing and loss that had been given voice by a drug.

This was a pure and simple hatred, sparked by Adam and now drawing everything else into it like a black hole.

If he opened his mouth now, it would be as an act of violence.

It would be instead of hitting this man until he _died_-

“What are _you_ doing to stop the evils of capitalism and competition and social judgement of so many people?” Adam demanded, a distinct edge on his voice all of a sudden “Do you not feel complicit, in all the things we could stop _right now_, if you hadn’t decided otherwise? Do you not feel complicit, knowing what the Mallemens will do, if you stop me?” And Steve saw him shuffle his weight back onto his feet – getting ready to move, he knew he was- “Who are you to tell the whole world they can’t have this? You know who you are? You’re-”

And, really, it was just that Steve knew he couldn’t let Adam move.

And he knew he _couldn’t_ hit him, not while he was in this state.

So, there was nothing else he could do-

“You know who _I _am?” He _shouted_ – so loud and with such aggression, even Tony squeaked in alarm, somewhere far behind them. “_You’re_ going to tell me who _I _am, are you? And you don’t think that’s _arrogant_, at all?” And he _did_ take a step closer then, before he could stop himself-

And Adam shuffled back from him, in a state of panic, his eyes wide and wet and fixed on Steve like an animal that doesn’t dare take its eyes off of a predator. Steve could _see_ him thinking it – _bad move, pull back, retreat-_

But it was too late.

These floodgates were open now.

“You know _what I am_?” Steve spat, leaning over Adam now, “I am _so_ fucking fed up with people telling _me_ who I am, _that’s_ what I am. I am so fed up with people who _don’t know me_, people who’ve never spoken to me, people who don’t know the first _fucking _thing about my life, telling _me_ what _I _must be thinking, based on what _they_ _think_ I did.”

Oh… Steve wasn’t expecting that to feel good.

He knew he’d reached the point where it was just too painful to keep it in.

He knew he’d reached the point where he had to say this – to keep Adam from moving, to stop himself from doing something worse, to prevent a rage induced heart attack-

But he hadn’t realised just how much he’d _wanted_ to say…Oh, so many things-

“And maybe that wouldn’t be so fucking annoying if the rules applied to _anyone_ else. If the people asking why I didn’t do _more_ to save people – you know, more than risking my life repeatedly, and going through incredible pain, and facing inhuman terrors – if any of those people had ever got off their asses and done _something_. If, _half the time_, they weren’t the same assholes actually causing the problems in the first place. If the people calling me an arrogant ideologue weren’t usually in the middle of a plan to _overthrow_ the whole of society. _Do you hear yourself?_”

“Okay, I-”

“_Shut up_” Steve spat with such venom it hurt his throat, stalking another step closer, all but pinning Adam beneath him. “You’ve just stood there and _asserted_ that I’m too passive _and_ too arrogant, that it’ll be _my _fault if I do something, and it’s _my_ fault when I don’t do anything – you said it, and you’re going to listen to me answer it.”

Adam actually gave a little nod, instinctively. Obviously, _physically_, terrified.

And Steve had completely forgotten that Tony was even there.

He’d forgotten all about the wider context and the later repercussions and all the ways his words might be interpreted – all the things that had ever stopped him speaking, before.

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten that Tony had already apologised for so many things, or that he was genuinely sorry to Tony for so much, or any of the things they’d worked out together – they just weren’t relevant right now.

_That_ wasn’t what he was talking about.

And this was the first time in his life he’d ever _just_ talked about what he was talking about, without a single thought to whether it was appropriate or on brand – or even whether it was actually right. This was just what he was feeling _now_. The things he had thought at some point, the things that just came to mind in the moment.

“And you know what’s _really_ weird? The fact that, _I_ do something once, and it’s who I am.” And he stopped himself, and corrected himself theatrically, “No, you know what, it’s _weirder_ than that – it’s the fact that, _some_ things, I can do a thousand times, and it still not be _who I am_. I can join the Army, and sign up to SHIELD, and work with the Avengers, but that doesn’t irrevocably, undeniably make me a team player – but the _one_ time I make a choice for myself and take a stand over it, that’s it, not a team player anymore. _Now_, that’s who I am, that _one thing_ I did – no, sorry, that one thing everyone _thinks_ I did. Not that I’ve ever said. Because everyone already knows what I’m not saying, don’t they?”

And he shot Adam a look, challenging him to answer – and, obviously, Adam said nothing.

“They all _know_ I’m thinking that I’m above law as a concept, and that I’m against all regulation, and that I hate to follow orders – because that whole bit with me signing up to the army, the _years_ spent following orders, they don’t count now, do they? Not now that I am ‘the person who hates all law’. Tony isn’t, just cos he literally told the senate to fuck themselves that one time. Nat isn’t, just because she literally told congress to fuck themselves, that one time. Rhodey isn’t, even though _he_ told Ross to fuck himself and sided with the fugitive Avengers, because he’s decided The Accords are bullshit and the world needed saving. But that’s not who Rhodey is – that’s just something Rhodey did.”

And Adam just threw him a helpless look, because of course he didn’t have the first clue what Steve was talking about-

But Steve wasn’t talking to Adam anymore.

“I did my absolute utmost to be honest with people – even in a world where no one knew me and it was so hard to be vulnerable and I had no idea what things I was supposed to say and which I was supposed to keep to myself. That’s not ‘who I am’, though. No, I _stupidly_ kept a secret once, because I was panicked and pressured and trying to keep people from getting hurt – that’s who I am. I am _a liar._ There is _no _trust for me, now. _Nada. Zero. Zip._ And I know I didn’t respond _perfectly_ when Tony built ULTRON – believe me, I always know when I fell short of perfect, because someone is _always_ there to gloat that I’m not so fucking perfect – but I don’t think I said I’d _never_ trust him again. I don’t think anyone said that to Bruce. I don’t suppose Pepper or Rhodey said it to Tony, when he lied to them about his Palladium poisoning, or the fact that he was still building suits. I don’t think he ever told _Nat_ that he had ‘_zero trust_’ for her, after she spent three weeks pretending to be a personal assistant called Natalie Rushman. But I’m _supposed_ to be perfect, aren’t I?”

And it was like hitting a vein. It was the sudden overwhelming rush of finding the words for something he thought he’d _never_ get to say out loud…

…things he felt like he’d missed the chance to say…

And he was beyond processing it, obviously… but, maybe, as it turned out, there was just a little part of him that begrudged the fact that Tony had seen all of this for himself, so easily and so readily. That Tony had apologised before Steve could say any of this. Even if more of him was relieved and grateful for the understanding they had come to – maybe a very basic, primal little part of him had felt cheated of something…

Not that it mattered. This was beyond his control, now. These words were just flowing.

“_Everyone _else is judged by the average, aren’t they? Everyone judges _themselves_ by someone worse – but me, I’m judged by what I could have done. The times I wasn’t _quite_ Captain fucking America. Anyone else on _earth_ has a near death experience – _in which they lose everyone they’ve ever known in their life_ – and they get a round of applause for getting out of bed ever again. Good for them, look at what they’ve been through, what more can you expect – I tell you what more you can expect. You can expect them to go right out there and risk their lives for the world again, and they should be polite and understanding and reasonable throughout, mind stone or otherwise. They should be able to get through the downfall of their whole _new _life without any help what-so-ever, whilst never making a bad call or saying something stupid. They should listen to politicians and journalists and Nazi fucking super villains call them a disappointment, and never lose their composure. And _if_ they do all that, maybe we’ll like them – _may-_be, we’ll reward them by just assuming that they’re good and right all the time and therefore in no need of credit or support. Maybe if they’re lucky, they’ll get to be responsible for being everyone else’s moral compass. And that’ll be their reward, right up until they slip up. One mistake, they lose. Because they _might_ have led the charge against a Norse God and kept a city from crashing into Earth and prevented Hydra from enslaving the planet, and they _might_ have tried to be kind and compassionate throughout – but that’s what they’re _supposed_ to be, right? They should consider themselves _blessed_ that everyone just takes that for granted, how lovely to just be assumed the good guy. But, oh, wait, turns out _they make shit apologies_. So, fuck them.”

And, God knows where the next point even came from. Steve had always been so quick to hate himself for thinking self-indulgent thoughts, so keen to bury them, that he had never been sure _which_ points were there just under the surface-

But, apparently, this was one of them. Who knew.

“And, therefore, I can’t ever expect anyone to apologise to _me_. For anything.” He yelled, throwing his arms out now in an expression of frustration. Adam flinched, and Steve ignored him. “Rhodey has _now_ decided that The Accords _were_ a bad idea, _now_ he regrets signing them – now, he agrees it’s better to break them, and save the world. Now the people who tell Ross to fuck himself _aren’t_ ‘dangerously arrogant’. But, of course, I could _never_ say he should be sorry for calling me that – _not after what I did. _Not when I wasn’t perfect. Even if I had been, I still couldn’t say it, because _that_ wouldn’t be perfect, would it? Especially not when Rhodey is now paralysed – because _Vision_ got distracted, while he was talking to _Wanda_, after _Rhodey_ told him to fire, because of where _Sam_ was flying – but, fuck it, fine, I’ll take that on me too, that means I can never say a word about anything, ever, fine. And, obviously, I _don’t_ expect Tony to say sorry that T’Challa spent two days trying to hunt down Bucky and kill him, for a crime he didn’t even commit – that would be _madness, _wouldn’t it, to blame Tony for the actions of a man that just so happened to turn up for him. I mean, he’s not _me_, is he, so that wouldn’t make sense.”

The computer said something else, something being initiated… it just bounced off of the outside of Steve’s head.

He _saw_ Adam’s eyes widen in alarm, at whatever the announcement had been. He saw him glance, forlornly, at the smartphone he didn’t dare lunge for-

But it just didn’t register.

He was on a roll, now.

“You know – on the topic of being _dangerously arrogant._” He shouted – actually demanding that Adam pay attention to him again, whether he realised it or not. “For the record – I _never_ tried to ‘take down’ The Accords. I wasn’t on a mission to _sabotage_ anyone else’s plan, I didn’t try to stop anyone _else_ from signing them. I just said what I thought, and did what I thought it was right to do – I wasn’t making choices for anyone but myself. And the actual choice I made for myself was that _other people_ shouldn’t have their choices taken from them. That’s the opinion _I _wanted to express. That’s the action _I _wanted to take. You don’t see me trying to make laws for anyone – you don’t see me trying to _un_make laws for anyone, actually – so you sure as hell wouldn’t see me trying to alter the entire eco-system of planet earth, you hypocritical, egotistical, maniacal _asshole_.”

And, in that moment, he hated Adam _so_ much – he hated so many people. He felt it like a wave of heat over his skin. It had a taste. Sharp, and sour, like spoiled milk.

“You’re running a facility staffed by slaves, and employees too callous and passive to _care_ that the rest of the staff are slaves, and you’re calling _me_ complicit?” He barked “You’ve decided to drug-fuck planet Earth, and you’re _above_ counter arguments – even when it turns out a family if evil aliens have compromised your entire theory, right under your nose – and _I’m_ arrogant? I’m doing too much _and_ not enough, in a building where no one is doing _anything_ but make bad choices on behalf of other people – and _you’re disappointed in me?_ This is as bad as the former black ops agent who thought everyone deserved to have their lives ruined _because he lost everything –_ fuck me, I wonder what that’s like. You know, I would have the most sympathetic story of any world ending super villain you ever met – but I didn’t even decide to just be a regular, slave owning corporate villain. I didn’t _even_ decide to be a hard working mechanic with a family and a dog – and what a parade I’d have been owed for that. No, I tried to be as good a man as I could possibly be – far, far better than you are, or any of the dicks who work for you – and you’re going to tell me _I’m not good enough_?”

And there it was.

The thing Steve had never been allowed to say – never even been allowed to _think_.

The thing that the myth of Captain America had taken from him, more fundamental even than ‘I’m sorry’, or ‘I need help’.

The thing that Steve hadn’t even realised he’d so wanted to say, to someone, to _himself_, just once-

“I might have let my emotions get the better of me, once or twice. I might’ve made poor choices sometimes. There _are_ things I wish I’d done, ways I still know I could be better. I have trouble talking and I _do_ have trouble apologising and I _have_ misjudged Tony, and hurt his feelings, and for _that _I will always be sorry. But none of that means I’m not good enough. He doesn’t _have_ to be able to say I’ve _never_ made a mistake, for me to be good enough. Especially not for the likes of _you. _You know what? I have tried as hard as I could, to do the right thing, my entire life. I have never _once_ thought about taking the easy way out, or letting someone else take the fall. I never once set out to be spiteful, not out of jealousy, not out of anger, not for revenge, not _once_. And _never _said I wasn’t scared, or angry, or human. Other people said that for me. I didn’t say anything. I was just there, being scared and doing it anyway. Being angry and still not doing it. Being human and just trying my best to be more than that. So, actually, I _am_ good enough – and _you_ don’t get to tell me otherwise.”

And…

Oh, the enormity of that…

It actually shocked him back to his senses – he was so shocked at _himself_-

Had he really just said that?

And that, finally, stopped him from talking. It stunned even his mind into total silence – which was the only reason he heard the computer’s next announcement.

_Shut down procedure complete – anti-reactionary medication being dispensed in Ten…Nine…_

And he heard Tony swear

_Eight…Seven_

And he saw Adam’s eyes flicker-

Relieved

Pleased

_Smug_

Not good-

“Steve, you have to _knock him out_.” Tony shouted, desperately. “_Now_.”

_…Six…Five…_

Steve turned to Adam, who had managed to throw himself forward onto his hands and knees-

He _couldn’t_ kick him in the head, he remembered that -

_Four…Three…_

Fuck it, he had to.

Steve aimed for Adam’s temple - but he _remembered _that he had to be careful, he over thought the danger to Adam’s skull and neck, he over corrected. He didn’t kick hard enough. And, yeah, it would’ve _hurt_. There was no doubt that Adam would’ve been _woozy_, after that blow-

But he wasn’t out cold-

_Two…One…_

And, just as Steve stepped forward to kick him again, there was another hydraulic hiss – directly above them, this time.

Steve immediately blacked out, for a fraction of a second. His legs went from under him. The crack of the floor hitting his knees jolted him awake, but it took a few seconds longer for the room to stop spinning, and for his vision to clear-

Adam, _crawling_ to where the smartphone was-

Steve went to push himself up, but it was like his arms just weren’t there, like he fell through them_. Now_, he panicked. A sudden spike of pure terror that made it even _harder_ to co-ordinate his limbs, meant it took even _longer _to force himself off of the floor-

And then he looked up.

And a cold, sad voice whispered in his head-

_Too late_.

Adam was already on his feet – his legs visibly trembling, and his eyes squeezed shut against the renewed flow of blood that Steve’s kick had unleashed…

But he had the smartphone in one hand, and a handkerchief already clutched in the other.

Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to make his legs work fast enough, he could feel it – it would take him longer to take a single step than it would for Adam to wipe his eyes, and type that code, and take _everything_ from him-

It was all over.

“You’re _good enough, _are you?” Adam hissed, frantically scrubbing the blood from his face. “You-”

And he just keeled over.

Out cold.

Time stopped. The whole world faded into white, all around him, as his vision focused on the dead weight of Adam, sprawled on the floor. Steve floated on the ocean of adrenaline, his whole body numb until his whole body was shaking, his heart still beating hard against his ribs as he finally thought to wonder what the hell had just happened…

And then he looked down at Adam’s hand, still clutching the little square of white cloth.

The cloth he’d tossed aside earlier, with the good old-fashioned Earth based sedative on it.

Steve swooned all over again – but this time, it was _just_ relief. An overwhelming, all encompassing wave of relief that washed all the tension out of him. He felt his limbs turn to jelly, his eyes suddenly weighed down by the scale of this emotion…

Until, somewhere in the distance, he heard Tony calling his name.

_Tony_.

Steve forced his eyes open, just as Tony landed heavily on his knees beside him.

“Steve, Steve, can you hear me?” He whispered-

Tony’s voice.

Tony’s hands on his face.

Tony’s beautiful brown eyes, looking down on him…

Tony…

…Oh.

…Oh, God, what had he said?

Steve could literally _feel_ his blood turning to ice. He felt his spine straighten, and his muscles tense up, as the cold began to soak through him… And then, somehow, _at the same time_, a sudden, buzzing _heat_… panic, frustration, self-loathing – because he _couldn’t remember _what he’d said.

He’d been in _such_ a temper

Out of his mind

It was all just a blur…

But, oh, he knew it had been _bad_.

_…I am good enough?_

Oh, Jesus –

He’d literally _just_ earned Tony’s trust back

He’d _just_ managed to convince Tony that he _was_ sorry, that he-

_Oh, Tony, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t know what I was – I don’t know what I was-_

He wasn’t saying it out loud; he _couldn’t_ he-

_Oh, I said things about him, I know I did_

_I don’t know what I-_

_Rhodey._

The first actual line to come back to him – he’d said something about Rhodey owing him an apology-

_Why the fuck_ _did I say that?_

He didn’t even think that, he really didn’t. Maybe, _maybe_, he’d thought it once – briefly, while feeling bad about himself… but he’d _never_ meant it. _He’d_ rethought that, he’d told _himself_ why it was unreasonable – he didn’t even know what point he’d been using that as a bad example of, _why_ he’d even…

_This is why I don’t talk, this is what happens when-_

“Steve, are you okay? Talk to me-”

“I’m so sorry” Steve croaked. He felt Tony soften against him – relieved he wasn’t dead, in the first instance.

And then he looked at Steve, _so _tenderly…

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay-”

“No, I didn’t – I don’t even – I’m-” Steve babbled – until Tony put a gently finger against his lips and told him.

“Shhh. Listen. It’s going to be okay, and you can say all of that, and I promise, everything will be okay at the end of this – but you _have_ to let me say this first” Tony raced to tell him, his voice heavy and breathless “This is mission… drug, thing, that I have to explain before it happens, okay?”

And Steve nodded, even though he didn’t have a clue what Tony had just said. Just because he was _so_ desperate to get through it, to tell him-

“Okay, so the rest of the building is being dosed with a very mild earth-based sedative, and… something else that’s mild, I don’t know – but, as a safeguard, if the drug-feed was ever cut, so that everyone doesn’t just crash out” Tony explained.

And, somewhere it _did_ register, that Steve should probably try to listen to this...

“And, that’s fine, that’s good – but, it does mean that the _other_ drugs… the, uh, giggling, sex drugs they’ve been giving everyone – those are all going to be forced _up_. So, yeah, we’re probably about to get a heavy dose of all of that, all at once… along with the drugs we were just gassed with… which are, um, woozy making…” Tony managed. And Steve heard all the words… and he tried to process that information – and in the end he just filed it away for later. Because, right now, he had to say-

“I’m sorry, for – whatever the hell I just said. I don’t even know, what I – I don’t know why I said that about Rhodey” He promised, desperately, struggling to sit himself upright so that he could look at Tony properly while he spoke “I _know_ what Rhodey did isn’t like what I did, and I don’t expect him to tell me he’s sorry, and I _am_ sorry for what happened to him, and I don’t know why I-”

“You didn’t kick Adam’s skull in though, did you?” Tony told him, seriously.

“I know. I’m sorry” Steve answered quickly – completely missing Tony’s soft little laugh, when he said it. “I just…I was scared I’d kill him. I know it must’ve looked like I just lost the plot and – well, I did, a bit, but I wasn’t _not_ thinking about what he could do. I was thinking, I didn’t know how to stop him, because if I hit him – I should have hit him harder, but I thought, if I-”

“_Steve_” Tony whispered, his tone _so_ gentle, and emotional, and… whatever it was, it stopped Steve in his tracks. He felt his heart swell suddenly, like it was reaching out to whatever it’d just heard in Tony’s voice. “My point – that I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make, before I’m just high as a kite, but – _my point is._ I know what it’s like, to be _so_ out of your head with anger, that nothing is rational anymore. And, when _I _did it, I _did_ try to blow someone’s head off. And _if_ I’d managed the self-control you just did, and tried to use my words instead – I’d have probably said some pretty unreasonable things about your best friend. I _did _say some awful things, as well as the awful thing I did – and all Bucky did wrong was get brainwashed and tortured. And, I _didn’t_ manage that level of self-control, did I? And – and you _are_ right, about, you’re right that-”

And Tony’s voice cracked.

Instinctively Steve reached out to him, putting his hands on Tony’s arms and pulling him closer. When Tony looked up at him again his eyes were wet with tears, and just so beautiful-

“You _are_ good enough” Tony breathed. “You’re so much more than that. And I’m _so_ sorry that you don’t feel that way, that you feel this bad for snapping and saying it once – I’m sorry if I ever made you think it would have been better if you’d never woken up, I’m just sorry-”

“_Tony-_”

“No, please, Steve, I – you’re right. You’re… That. _That_.” And Tony gestured vaguely to where Adam was lying prone, just beside them. “That was incredible. The fact that you _didn’t_ hit him, even though he actually _is_ an evil bastard, and you were literally _drugged_ – and you never have. Even though people have been _so_ spiteful to you, and taken so much from you, and even though you could kill every one of them – you’ve never even yelled at anyone. And, you’re right – I took that for granted, I didn’t even notice, I _did_ just think… God, there are _so_ many things I should’ve said, that I – _please_ don’t say you’re sorry, just for saying you’re good enough. Please don’t – please don’t think you can never lose your temper, or say something you don’t mean, or just rant that you _hate your whole life_ sometimes – everyone does that Steve, and I know… I know _why_ you think you can’t… And I’m sorry you never felt like you could do that, before, but you can, I don’t-”

And Steve just pulled Tony against his chest, and wrapped his arms around him. He couldn’t help it. He just had to _feel_ him, to… have Tony pressed close to him, like this… His breath on Steve’s neck…

Steve could smell his skin…

He could hear Tony’s heart beating…

He could see the blood rushing up his neck…

Belatedly, he recognised what Tony had been telling him earlier…

_The, uh, giggling, sex drugs they’ve been giving everyone – those are all going to be forced up. So, yeah, we’re probably about to get a heavy dose of all of that, all at once_

…Yeah…That suddenly made a lot of sense…


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, familiar caveats apply here. There is an obvious drug affect, on all parts of this chapter...  
In a similar warning as I gave before chapters 10 and 11 - it's not that Tony (and Steve) don't say some real things here, that they genuinely mean... but please keep in mind that both parties are high, and that Tony's wording and emotional state are affected by that, and that he's focusing on very specific aspects when he has this breakdown. Much like Steve's earlier (drug assisted) apology, really... Its not that they don't mean any of this, its just that they might not otherwise have put it this way, and it isn't intended as a full and balanced view of things...  
Too much explanation. Sorry. - I'm nervous!  
Also, no smut in this chapter - but it is directly leading to smut in the next chapter, and that's about as drug affected as this fic gets... so, there will be notes before that one, anyway.  
Enjoy!

Tony could literally feel his control slip away from him, as Steve’s fingers pressed a little firmer into his skin… he could _feel_ all those coherent ideas crumbling into meaningless words…

He felt so much

He _had_ to say… so much…

But his head was swimming from the cocktail of drugs he was on, and his whole being was still reeling from Steve’s outburst, and-

Tony had _known_, when he stepped away from that panel, that he had to focus on those two immediate priorities. That, even though there were a thousand important things that he _had_ to say – he just wasn’t going to be able to. It was inarguably beyond his capabilities to articulate _everything_, right now… But if he focused _very_ hard, he could get to those two things – he had to say those two things-

He _had_ to explain the drugs. Obviously. That was a mission thing. A basic safety thing. A… protective, thing. He couldn’t let Steve get gassed by a cloud of endorphins and aphrodisiacs and not even warn him – even in this state, Tony knew that one…

And he _had_ to tell Steve not to be sorry for saying it.

He just _knew_ Steve was going to be sorry for saying it. He knew Steve would panic, that he’d feel bad – that he’d try to take it back.

And Tony just couldn’t have that.

He wasn’t up to thinking any further through it. He could – and _would – _make a thousand more apologies, just as soon as he sobered up… but _first_, he had to make sure Steve knew-

And, actually, the first minute or two went slightly better than Tony was expecting. He was _surprised_ that he managed to keep that whole comparison to his outburst in the bunker in his head, that he managed to explain it at all…

But then he lost the reason he was saying it, the wider point he was trying to make…

He forgot what he was going to say next, as he was saying it…

He just kept thinking that he _had_ to stop Steve from taking it back-

He just kept thinking that he was _sorry_.

And then Steve put his arms around him, and he was suddenly lightheaded, just high on the smell of him…

Very high in general.

He knew he was. He knew that his thoughts didn’t usually work this way, that his body didn’t feel like his own, that the way his emotions were running away from him wasn’t natural-

But he knew all these revelations were real.

And maybe the sudden desperation to express them was the drugs – the _difficulty_ expressing them was certainly the drugs. But not the ideas themselves. This was everything he’d spent all day slowly working out, the thing he’d first seen after _his _drug induced rant. This _was _that revelation, finally laid out in front of him in total (possibly drug assisted) clarity. He _knew_ that. He just couldn’t think how to say it, all of a sudden-

And then there was Steve’s hand on the side of his face…

_…beautiful hands…_

_ Big…strong…safe…_

And then Tony was looking right at Steve, staring right into those flawless blue eyes…

He almost panicked, it was just _so_ much-

“Okay, we _have_ to call The Avengers first” Steve whispered, his tone deliberate and careful – still cradling the side of Tony’s face, so softly…

But Tony knew there was something in what Steve had just said. He remembered it – he remembered ‘call the Avengers’… that they’d been saying that for hours now…

“Yeah, sorry, I… uh, I’m just… just a minute…” Tony muttered, trying to make himself _think_-

“Okay, you have the portal device, yeah?” Steve asked him, his voice a little louder now-

A different tone.

A firmer, surer tone…

_His Captain America voice…_

And, firstly – it worked. Tony immediately felt safer… better. Calmer. Enough to think where the portal device was and hand it over, which probably would’ve been beyond him, a second ago…

And he watched Steve _work it out_, thinking back to the instructions he’d heard before and the things he’d learned about all manner of tech… the same way he’d worked out how to use all of modern technology, with such little fanfare…

Tony _saw_ him.

He saw Steve – no surer or firmer than _he_ was, right now. But taking charge and being sure anyway… because he had to. Tony _saw_ how amazing that was…

_…Did I just think he was ‘like that’, before?_

_…Was I actually irritated by that, before? _

_…Did I even think about it, before?_

And he thought of Steve, never _really_ being Captain America… Just being Steve, doing all those things. Making all those choices. Facing all those consequences…

Tony heard the little beep. The commotion of the team filing into the White Room. He could feel people looking at him, but he didn’t think anything of it. He couldn’t tear his thoughts away from all those memories of _Steve_.

He thought of _Steve_… just a man, just like him… Standing in that bunker, watching _his_ whole life fall to pieces, too. Not knowing how to explain to Tony that he didn’t know if he knew – knowing Tony wouldn’t wait for him to try. Knowing that he couldn’t expect any sort of sympathy or understanding for his mistakes.

He must’ve been so furious as Zemo, so scared about what was going to happen, so desperate to think of something to say…

He must’ve been so frightened, when Tony did what he did.

So helpless – so out of options.

And Tony thought of that man, desperate and determined and _trying_ to tell him… _he’s my friend._

He thought of _Steve_, trying to ask him, _please Tony, don’t kill my friend._

He thought of the efforts Steve had gone to, not to hurt _him_, even though he was trying to kill Steve’s best friend-

_And I eviscerated him for that._

_I thought back to that line so many times – like he’d said something so hurtful-_

And he thought of _Steve_, sitting down and writing that letter. _Trying_ to apologise, even though it was so hard for him-

_And the reason it’s so hard for him is because people react like that_

_I tore that letter to pieces, line by line_

_I decided he was an uncaring bastard, all because he told me he hoped I’d understand one day_

And yeah, okay, it wasn’t the _best_ apology in the world – but _Jesus Christ_-

…At least he’d tried to make one.

At least Steve had tried to reach out. He’d written a letter, and sent a phone… and Tony had never once thought about calling it. He’d never even thought about sending a text – not even about the things he _already_ knew he was wrong for. He would never have called Steve to tell him he was sorry for attacking Bucky… He hadn’t said that in the six months Steve had been back-

Steve was right – he _had_ decided that Steve was unworthy of that basic human decency, _because_ Steve had made that mistake… Like the two things were in _any_ way related.

And then he’d yelled at Steve for not making more effort. For not being the one to ring the phone once he’d sent it-

“Tony?”

Tony looked up to find Rhodey’s face looking down on him with calm concern. A familiar expression, a voice that felt like home…

“What’s going on?” Tony asked on autopilot. There was a soft mechanical whir as Rhodey knelt down to face him.

“Nat has a team sweeping the building for the human staff – they’re going to be detained for further questioning” Rhodey explained in a slow, clear voice, and Tony could tell he was simplifying this for him, “Turns out that The Guardians have some experience in this part of the Galaxy – and Zan’s found a kindred spirit in Nebula…” He paused, briefly, a little flicker of thought behind his eyes… there was clearly more to _that_ story. But it would have to wait. “So, they’re going to handle the Mallamen’s – they know who they’re turning them over to.”

Tony felt an inch of relief, even though he had no idea what it was for. Just the vague memory that they’d been worried about that, and the general feeling that it had been assuaged…

“The guests.” He remembered “The, uh, the research, and-”

“It’s okay, Tony, we’re on it.” Rhodey reassured him, his voice softer now… close…

That helped clear Tony’s head a little bit –

“I think you and Steve should probably call it a day, get back to the compound-” Rhodey tried-

“No” Tony remembered, suddenly. “No, uh, we’re supposed to stay here… we’re… I think we’re supposed to be downstairs…”

Oh, he thought he was finished with priority point one… he’d said something about the drugs and just ticked it off the list, and now…

Oh, he knew more things, about the drugs, a minute ago-

“He said something about there being safeguard drugs” Steve managed – not sounding _much_ more settled than Tony felt, now that the immediate need to lead the situation had passed… “Something the people downstairs are being given.”

“Yeah, they might have a point about that” Bruce called, from over at the panel. Tony looked up at him, not remotely surprised to see him there, squinting at the computer screen…

Saying something about staying here for the next few hours, something about it probably being safer…

Tony was _trying_ to listen.

But he found himself drifting back into his head, back into his memories – until it was literally those moments he was looking at, until he’d forgotten about the room he was in-

He was looking at Steve back in 2012 – and Jesus, even his memories looked different now… He couldn’t remember the old version anymore, with the closed-minded, cocky bully who kept on picking at him… he couldn’t make sense of that version now, couldn’t think how the scenes would all have lined up-

But he could so clearly see _Steve_ standing there, all alone in this alien future, a few weeks clear of losing everyone he loved, _still_ trying to stand sure and do the right thing… Just doing what he was doing _right now_, just being a human being faced with incredible odds and faring extraordinarily well-

_I think I even said to Bruce ‘Jesus, what’s his problem?’_

_Gee, Tony, I wonder what it could possibly have been-_

_ ‘What’s your thing, Pilates?’_

_ What the fuck point were you even trying to make with that? _

_ You couldn’t have just said, Hi, I’m Tony, like a normal fucking person?_

And he thought of himself… not _that_ much younger than Steve had been… even a few _years_ after his parents died-

_Not everyone I ever knew_

_ Not the whole world that I came from_

_ Not in an accident that had nearly killed me, along with them-_

But still, sometimes he’d lashed out – at Rhodey, at Obie, at total strangers… He’d drunk too much and made poor choices and behaved irresponsibly.

_And, what, Steve got a bit pushy with me, once Loki started using the Mind Stone to fuck with him?_

_ You couldn’t have just let that go? Like so many people let things go, with you?_

_ You couldn’t have just stopped…picking at him, for a minute?_

But it was worse than that.

It was deeper than that.

It was deeper than any of these individual memories he was now seeing anew, it was more than any of these singular points-

He hadn’t just behaved insensitively, when he first met Steve. It wasn’t just a years-old mistake that he had to say sorry for. It wasn’t even the catalogue of equally thoughtless remarks that he’d made since, or any of the… many…many errors of judgement he’d made, about Steve… It wasn’t just ‘the things’ he had to apologise for.

Tony _had_ viewed Steve’s behaviour entirely differently to his own behaviour, to _anyone_ else’s behaviour. He had let those first few exchanges colour his view of Steve – even after Steve had spent years treating him better than that. He _did_ let all of Steve’s mistakes carry so much more weight… all while never giving him credit for the mistakes he didn’t make, the mistakes _anyone_ else would’ve been given a pass for making – the incredible, impossible things he _did_ do-

Because, what, that was just who Steve was, or something?

Who Steve was _supposed_ to be?

And – perhaps it stemmed from that revelation. Perhaps it _did_ just come from nowhere. But it certainly _felt_ like a sudden blow to the gut, as Tony realised…

…_You blamed Steve for everything that happened, in Siberia._

_…It was Steve you spent all those nights yelling at, in your own head_

_…Steve’s arguments you wanted to counter_

_…Steve’s actions that you thought needed to be undone_

_…Not Zemo’s._

In all the time he’d been angry at Steve, he’d never once crafted a rant for the person who had gone out of his way to hurt people, deliberately, out of vengeance and spite. It wasn’t _Zemo_ he aimed his weapons at, when that tape stopped rolling.

_…because I was so much more disappointed in Steve_

_…because Steve had hurt me so much more, than Zemo had_

…And, Jesus, those had actually seemed like _rational justifications_ to him, at one point. Somehow. That had all seemed perfectly _reasonable-_

It was absolutely _ludicrous_ to hold Steve responsible for everything that had happened – for every consequence someone _else_ had spitefully twisted his few mistakes into-

And it suddenly Tony found himself thinking how things would have gone, if it weren’t for Zemo. What would have happened if he’d just found out one day that Steve had kept that secret for him – the way normal people get to discover these things, on an otherwise uneventful Tuesday, when you can at least focus on that one revelation…

How he probably _would’ve_ been hurt, and he probably would’ve yelled…

And Steve would’ve apologised – awkwardly, maybe, but he would’ve…

Just liked Steve yelled at him when he kept ULTRON a secret, and he apologised, and they _did_ get to move on…

Tony would have forgiven Steve for that mistake, if it weren’t for the things _other _people did. The consequences Steve couldn’t possibly be expected to plan for. The pain _Tony_ was in…

The thing he’d _decided_ Steve had done.

He _had_ been angry at Steve, for so _coldly_ deciding to keep him in the dark…

Even though, when he thought about Steve’s behaviour in general for the best part of a decade… He should have _known _that he’d been more conflicted than that…

He’d been so angry at Steve for not trusting him, so _hurt_-

And he’d been so quick to revoke _all_ his trust for Steve, after this one mistake… this one mistake that someone _else_ made into more than a personal fight…

Belatedly, Tony realised that his chest hurt. That his breaths had been coming shallower and shallower, until there just wasn’t enough air-

His voice cracked when he forced himself to fill his lungs.

He was vaguely aware of a lull around him. The general feeling of people paying attention to him again.

He realised that he’d fallen into something – whether it was the drugs, or an emotional breakdown, or some hybrid of the two – that his thoughts had literally just this moment broken down on him, leaving him with this overwhelming wordless _feeling-_

_I’m sorry Steve,_

_I’m so sorry-_

But nothing came out when he tried to say it, his throat was still too tight, there still wasn’t enough air-

And then a shadow fell over him, and he already knew when he looked up, Steve would be there. He already had his hand held up, because he knew Steve would take it.

And Steve lifted him onto his feet, like he was weightless – just like Tony knew he would – and pulled him close, and whispered,

“Come on, downstairs”

And Tony just… followed.

*

Steve had only been thinking of Tony, when he’d decided it was time to leave the White Room – at least in so far as he was up to thinking about anything, at that stage.

By the end there, the same cloud of confusion and emotion was beginning to get the better of him too. His attempts to hold the drugs at bay for long enough to hand the mission over had become increasingly difficult – and then fallen by the wayside entirely.

Because he thought he heard Tony cry.

That tiny little crack in Tony’s breathing had been enough to shatter the last of Steve’s resolve. Whatever reassurance Rhodey had been right in the middle of making just disappeared from Steve’s head, his attention suddenly focused _completely _on Tony

Tony looked lost.

He looked _hurt_-

_I have to get to him-_

“It’s okay,” Rhodey said, and Steve glanced at him purely as a reflex. Saw him gesturing to a patch on his forearm that Steve recognised… just like the one Steve was wearing…

But, honestly, none of that meant anything to him right now.

He was already making towards Tony when Rhodey added, “These will keep _us_ safe. From what’s being pushed up here _now,_ anyway. You should probably… yeah-”

And then there was just Tony.

It wasn’t until he’d led them both to the second floor that Steve realised… _he_ was quite relieved to be out of the White Room, too.

Not that his thoughts cleared much, now that they were out of there… But there was at least the feeling that it wasn’t _building_ anymore, that he _might_ be able to catch his breath now, if he just took a moment-

And then he looked at Tony. His eyes blown wide, his lashes wet with tears he was trying to hold back, his lips flushed dark red and slightly parted. His body held so firm, even though his breathing was shaking.

“Steve, I… I’m so sorry” He whispered, his face full of such _honest_ remorse-

And Steve just couldn’t have that, either.

He couldn’t have _Tony_ take everything back, Steve couldn’t bare the idea that his outburst had played into _that _narrative…that he was just beginning to really understand… something he could _see_, now…

Tony wasn’t the only one having a (possibly drug assisted) moment of enlightenment, right now.

Well, several, probably – it felt like there were _thousands_ of new ideas in Steve’s head, all of a sudden, things he didn’t have time to think in words or directly look at, but still… he _knew_-

He looked at Tony and he just _understood_, now…he _saw_…

He saw that Tony _loved_ him.

And maybe that sudden comprehension had more to do with what Steve had just worked out about _himself…_ Maybe that burst of inspiration, the idea that maybe he _wasn’t_ obliged to prove himself to the world like that – as unsettling and embarrassing as he found it, in the immediate… Maybe thinking of himself as good enough, for just a moment, had helped him see this.

He’d spent the day in a state of giddy _bewilderment_ at the idea that Tony was in love with him… it wasn’t that he _hadn’t_ believed him, before, it was just… he _couldn’t_ believe it – it didn’t fit in his head. And then… right now, he felt like he _got_ it. Like he could rewatch all of _his_ memories, and see…

Something different.

Just knowing that Tony had been in love with him all that time…_believing _Tony had really been in love with him… It changed something. Something important.

He looked back now and _saw_ Tony… fighting with something. Coming up against some vital, personal challenge, again and again – the same way he faced any impossible challenge. Back straight, eyes forward, ‘always alright’… And Steve had already worked out that he’d fallen for something, when he’d taken all that at face value. He’d already figured out that he’d missed so many of Tony’s deeper qualities, when he missed his hurt feelings… But _now,_ he realised he’d missed… _this_.

He thought of that constant conflict in Tony.

The nervousness in him, because he’d spent his whole life being doubted and criticised and told he wasn’t good enough, betrayed and belittled by the people closest to him…

The boldness in him, that bright, brave spark that nothing could diminish.

The defensiveness in him, because he’d been surrounded by people who demanded explanations, asked him to live up to an expectation he’d been burdened with since birth, held him to different standards and never let him win…

The openness in him, because at his very heart, Tony understood people and he liked people and he _wanted_ to be with people…

It had all seemed such a mess of contradictions to Steve, at one point. It didn’t fit into _any_ boxes.

And now it all seemed so obvious-

Tony Stark had just never fit into the boxes he’d been given. That was all.

Tony Stark just _was_ one of those rare, wonderful people who were born different. He just _was_ brave, and kind, and loving, and possessed of an innate desire to do good, to do better – a desire that had been there even before he was Iron Man. Tony Stark had always been that person, or else the ordeal he’d been through in Afghanistan would’ve broken him. Open heart surgery in a cave can’t bring out qualities that weren’t in there anyway. That creativity. That determination. That indomitability.

And the actions of his father had changed him, of course they had. The presence of the worlds media, from the moment he was born. The pressure and responsibility and expectation put on him from such a young age. The traumas that came at the hands of people he’d trusted. All of it had shaped those qualities, and worn parts of him down, and forced him to find ways to dodge and deflect and hide-

But they hadn’t broken him. Nothing could.

Tony was just too clever, too adaptable, too impossible to beat. He’d found ways to hide his kindness, and his vulnerabilities, but they were all still there. He took all of those impossible, unfair burdens onto himself – but he wouldn’t let them best him. He’d found a way, after all those years, to put up a mask and hide the hurt and push beyond it, a way to reach out to people whilst still keeping his distance…

And then he’d fallen in love.

And it was so in Tony’s nature, to fall in love completely. To give himself entirely, and to trust, and to try…

And it was so against Tony’s entire life’s teaching to fall in love like that. To show and feel and risk any of the things you had to, to fall in love.

And Steve could just see all those conflicts, there beneath the surface of their every interaction.

He could _see_ Tony, in the last six months… being so hurt, and not knowing how to be. Not being able to reconcile a life’s experience with something he just felt. Telling himself that he couldn’t be hurt and shouldn’t be hurt and could never show that he was hurt… _Wanting_ so much to tell Steve anyway, to reach out, and-

Steve understood Tony’s instinct to retreat from his rant, once he’d had it. He saw the hundred of people who’d ignored Tony’s hurt feelings, or belittled them, or asked him what right he had to them in the first place. The learned response of just not showing them, trying not to have them…

And, _now_, Steve really understood what had driven Tony to have that rant anyway. The wonderful part of Tony’s very nature that pushed him to love like that, to want love, to want to fight for it, in spite of everything. The brave little part of him that wouldn’t be dismissed…

That rant had been Tony coming up against a core struggle of his very being. Yet another moment when who he really was overrode _everything_ he’d been told. The moment when he cut himself open and put all his feelings out there, _bravely_, even though it had only ever hurt him, even though he’d been _told_ he wasn’t allowed…

And Steve just couldn’t have him take it back.

He couldn’t watch Tony cry, or feel guilty, for showing that.

He couldn’t watch that bold, bright spark of the real Tony – the one he was so honestly in love with – to be overpowered by narrative of an unfair world.

He just – couldn’t.

…He knew what he meant, right now, okay?

So, before Tony could say anything else, Steve took his hand again and started walking them both down the nearest hallway. He didn’t want to do this in a lobby. Even if The Facility _was_ starting to feel a bit more… subdued, now – he wanted to take Tony somewhere quieter. Somewhere safer. Somewhere…

Soft.

And, thankfully, his legs seemed to remember where the nearest soft room was – because his head was suddenly of no use to him, at all. His head had completely whited out, washed into a general glare of pure emotions. Just endorphins, and adrenaline… and a lot of drugs, by now.

He knew they’d both stumble when they walked in. He couldn’t be bothered to brace against it – he didn’t _care_.

And when they did, Steve realised that this room wasn’t quite like the others. This room was full of pillows, and duvets, and blankets, with walls clearly designed to resemble padded headboards rather than being a continuation of the floor. That, essentially, he and Tony had just tumbled into a giant bed.

Steve was glad.

He wanted to be able to wrap Tony in blankets,

He wanted to be able to hold Tony close, make him safe,

He wanted-

“Steve – I’m sorry.” Tony breathed, lying under Steve now, looking up at him through those impossible lashes-

Steve wanted to stop Tony apologising, for a start.

“Please Tony, don’t.” He whispered… His hands finding their way to Tony’s ribs entirely of their own accord… “You don’t have to be sorry – you were right. You had every right to be hurt by what I did, you had every right to say it – I’m _glad_ you said it-”

“But, Steve-”

“I meant it when I said I was sorry, I _am_ sorry, and you were right, if I’d just said that earlier-”

“But you _tried _to say, that’s one of – just _one_ of the things I’m trying to say sorry for-”

“You don’t have to be sorry to me, Tony. You don’t have to say-”

“_Yes_.” Tony answered, more urgently, “Yes, I _do_, Steve.”

And it was the tone that stopped Steve, more than anything. He was sort of operating on that instinctive, animalistic level now, responding to basic human cues.

Something in Tony’s voice reached Steve. _Important. Alarm._ An impulse to freeze, pay attention…

“I _do_ have to apologise to you, and it’s not even _about_ anything I said… last night. God, was that really only last night? But, what I mean is – it’s just a different list of things, Steve. And even if I did have some right to be mad you kept a secret from me – that _doesn’t_ make any of the other things right, that doesn’t mean I don’t have to say…”

And Tony took a brave little breath, steadying himself. And Steve would’ve intervened again then, just out of instinct. A protective feeling that was growing by the second, a bodily desire to pull Tony against his chest and hush him and tell him everything was going to be okay… But, before he could-

“I’m sorry that I was so insensitive when we first met. And I’m _really _sorry that it was me nursing some sort of injury over that, while _you_ were actually feeling guilty over it, and trying to make it right.”

…That blindsided Steve, somewhat.

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting Tony to say, for a start. He _had_ just assumed that Tony was thinking back to his own outburst, that he’d been talking specifically about Siberia, and the things they’d said about _that_… He’d not considered that they might be going back further…

But, more than that…

Steve’s impulse to intervene was suddenly met with an equally strong impulse to listen…

A curiosity…

A desire to hear this.

Apparently – in this one, drug fucked moment, at least – Steve _did_ want to hear what Tony had to say about that… He hadn’t known, before… but…

_…What if you were just allowed to be human?_

_…What if you were allowed to have hurt feelings?_

_…What if it’s okay, to want to hear this?_

Well, that all seemed very… Unlike him… 

Uncomfortable, and slightly…guilty-feeling, or…something…

…But he shut up.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t do more to help you then – that I didn’t just do less to wind you up” Tony raced on, like he was worried he’d run out of words before he got through it all. “That I didn’t think about _you_, not like I would anyone else – I’m sorry I haven’t done that a thousand other times that we’ll just have to get to when I’m not high”

And he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, clearly trying _so_ hard to focus-

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, at the airport. I’m sorry I just told _you_ that your judgement was askew, that I’d decided that I had enough details to make that _assertion_, that I – That I didn’t think, after working with you for five years, that it was more likely that your judgement _wasn’t_ askew, that there would’ve been _something_. I went off at you, for not tipping me off that there was something more going on, when really, I should have at least considered that for myself, I could’ve _thought_ – I could’ve given you _five minutes_ before I decided to bring you all in by force. I didn’t _trust you_, then – and I’ve been mad at you for not trusting me-”

And then, in a flash of inspiration, like the thought had come from nowhere-

“I’m sorry I lied to you about ULTRON!” And, when Tony saw Steve go to reassure him over it, he added quickly “And, I _know_ I said sorry about the secret, the thing I did, at the time – I don’t just mean that. I mean – I lied to you, then. I didn’t _trust_ you, with what I was doing. And I was so mad at you for yelling at me over ULTRON, once I found out you’d done the same thing. I never thought that maybe you had a right to be mad, that I’d still fucked up, even though it turned out you weren’t perfect – and, I mean, it’s more than that. I mean – I was so, furious, that you were mad about ULTRON, when you’d kept the secret over Bucky... And I never thought, maybe I couldn’t be mad about Bucky, because I’d kept the secret over ULTRON. It didn’t occur to me that it would work the other way around, that I should be more understanding, seeing as I had done _the exact same thing…_ Cos, I got found out first, or I got found out quicker, or just cos there are different rules for you – I honestly don’t know, but I’m sorry.”

And…

Well, that was a weird one.

That wasn’t even one of the many injuries Steve had simply assumed he’d have to nurse, silently, for the rest of his life.

He’d not even _thought_ of that one...

“And I’m sorry that – I mean, I _expected_ you to trust me, when Vienna happened, even though I’d lied to you once. I was hurt that you didn’t. And I never thought it was the same thing, with you. That maybe you could still be hurt that I didn’t trust you, even after that mistake…” Tony carried on, his voice reduced to a whisper by the sheer emotion in it “And I am _so_ sorry for what I did to you and Bucky-”

“You _have_ apologised, for that.” Steve assured, softly. Heard himself say it, really – he had no memory of thinking it, first.

“But not enough.” Tony pressed, his eyes widening in desperation. “I mean – _you_ apologised for Siberia. You wrote me a letter and said you were sorry you didn’t tell me about my parents and you wished you hadn’t hurt my feelings-”

“And it _wasn’t_ enough-”

“Then neither is what I said about Bucky, today.” Tony asserted more firmly. “I…I tried to hurt your friend, and you, I could’ve – and you begged me not to. And if I think of you, _you_, having to actually beg me not to take everything from you like that, not to go after an innocent man, and – _and_ I was actually mad at you for asking. For the fucking _wording_. I – I know what I said today wasn’t enough, for that. That was… just, so wrong, I can’t even – but I am _so_ sorry for that, Steve. So sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t call and say it, I’m sorry I didn’t say it at any point in the last six months – I’m sorry I thought I didn’t have to say that, just cos I was mad at you, when they were always different things. I’m sorry for… _so_ many things I haven’t said. I’m sorry that I never _said_ all the things about you that are so amazing. I’m sorry I never once said well done, or – that I just… _assumed_ all these things of you. And that I never once thought about what it would be like, not really, that I didn’t-”

“Tony, it’s okay, it’s okay” Steve soothed. That protective instinct growing ever sharper, as Tony continued to break down-

But, oh, that little flash of defiance in Tony’s eyes.

That white-hot determination, in the face of all these incredible feelings…

Feelings he didn’t run from, feelings he stood up to, time and time again-

Oh, Steve _loved_ him, he-

“It’s _not_ okay” Tony told him “It’s never been okay, just because it’s always been like that. You deserve the same consideration as anyone, _more_, you – you have to _accept_ the same consideration as anyone else, Steve…” And he looked at Steve then, with such intensity, “_You have to let me be in this, Steve._”

And, really, it was only that Steve recognised them as his own words. That was the anchor, between what Tony had said and any sort of cognitive activity…

…But Steve did remember saying that.

…He remembered the point he’d been making, when he said that

Oh.

Oh… he _understood_.

There was this blinding, incapacitating, _beyond_ natural moment of enlightenment then, as _everything_ just fell into place in his mind.

Steve thought back to the stoic generals and politicians of his era. The sombre way they took responsibility for everything, out of some universal sense of honour…whilst never really taking responsibility for anything at all.

He thought of the difficulty he’d always had, reconciling himself with that. The learned pressure to do it, along with the inherent instinct that… it wasn’t right, it was missing the point.

Steve _saw_ his own instinct to assume the guilt for everything, to ‘rise above’ any need for an apology, to be the ‘good leader’ he’d been shown in his childhood… He saw the frustration and discomfort it had always caused him, even before he was Captain America.

…He did it too.

He didn’t fit into the boxes he’d been assigned. _He’d_ spent his whole life in a stuttering, inconsistent fight between expectations and instinct. A constant, faltering battle to do right, to be good, in a world that made it so difficult… the constant conflict between the danger of doubt and the danger of hubris. And he’d been worn down by it, and changed by it, and traumatised by it… But not broken. He’d found a way to cope – a flawed and improvised way to carry on regardless. He’d learned to deflect, and distance, and defend – _in spite_ of his nature – because he’d had to….

_Because I thought I had to…_

Just like Tony.

For so many of the same reasons.

They really _weren’t_ so different.

They’d chosen different coping methods. They’d deflected in different ways. The expectations they were weighed down by weren’t the same…

But he was backing away from this apology for all the same reasons. He was still telling Tony he could expect more from him than he expected from Tony. He was _still_ thinking that he couldn’t really be… _in this_, not like other people could be, not… not like…

But, really…

What if he owed Tony more than that?

What if he really _could_ have more than that?

What if…

…What if he _deserved_ that?

And this revelation just kept unfolding in Steve’s mind – clear, and coherent, and concise – as Tony continued, breathlessly,

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, when I got back from space. I was just… delirious, and dehydrated, and hurt, and, its no excuse. I’m sorry I tried to make you feel bad, for not being on the team when Thanos turned up. Like it was your job to be there, or something, like I had any right to assume… and you turned up anyway, and I never said – and I’m just, sorry…”

And Steve just…_looked_, at him…

_Saw_ him…

Saw this whole alternative view of his life… this world in which he could just be a part of something, where he was allowed to be human, and happy…

Tony Stark loved him…

Tony _really_ loved him-

“I’m sorry that I spent more time thinking about what you did than what Zemo did. I’m sorry that I held you responsible for the fact that _I _was hurt, I’m sorry that – I’m just sorry” Tony’s voice cracked then, and he actually had to stop himself, take that slow, careful breath people take when they’re so close to tears…

_Oh, Tony-_

“And, the fact that you… even after, I…” Tony breathed, and looked up at him “I don’t deserve you”

_No._

It cut through Steve like a blade. Razor sharp and lightning fast, right to the core of him.

_No._

He was _never_ going to let anyone say that about Tony, ever again.

Not even Tony.

“_Yes_, you do.” Steve told him, a fierce sincerity in his voice.

And… It was like he could see everything more clearly. In finer detail, in higher colour. In slow motion.

He watched the way Tony’s eyes widened at that, the innocent, open hope, and wonder, and love that washed over that _beautiful_ face-

Steve loved him so much he didn’t know what to do with himself

He didn’t know how to – _have_ him, enough, how to-

“You are _spectacular_” Steve whispered, wishing there were _bigger_ words, special words – words that had been reserved for Tony, because he deserved words of his own. “You are _brilliant_, and _brave_, and in _every way, _beautiful, and you deserve as much as any person that has ever lived. And, you know what, there aren’t many people that deserve me…”

…Well.

…That had just slipped out.

…He might actually _believe _that – right now, at least-

But.

More important than that.

“…But _you_ do.” He told Tony, letting his hands curl around Tony’s waist, lowering himself just slightly.

He believed this more than he believed in anything.

“You _do_ deserve me, Tony.” Steve smiled “…It’s taken me nearly a decade to get here, I know, but… you’re meant to be with me, Tony. We’re meant to be together”

And he watched Tony part his lips, that little shuddering breath he took-

And he kissed him.

The body had taken over from the mind, he had reached his limit – he just _was_.

He was pulling Tony into him, caressing his arms over his back as he kissed him deeper, this desperate desire to – _consume_ him, to-

Steve felt Tony melt in his arms, his hands still gripping frantically at Steve’s hair even as the rest of him was overwhelmed. Steve barely broke the kiss as he laid Tony back into the sheets, lying on top of him, pining Tony between his legs. He felt Tony whimper softly against his mouth, a sharp tingle in his lips that set of a sudden flush of heat all over his skin-

Oh God Steve wanted him

He wanted Tony now as basically and as desperately as he’d ever wanted anything. He wasn’t even thinking of what he wanted to do _with_ him, not specifically – not yet. At the moment there was just this hyper sensitive, over-emotional desperation to touch him, to be closer to him, to have _more_.

Steve’s hands ran under Tony’s shirt, seeking out more of him, delighting in the sensation of Tony’s skin under his hands and the way he writhed up against Steve’s touches and the soft little sounds he made against Steve’s lips.

Steve wanted _more_.

He wanted to see, to feel, to _have_-

He had to break the kiss, to get his hands to the front of Tony’s shirt. Undoing the buttons too roughly, tearing more than he unfastened-

Tony clearly didn’t care.

He pushed himself up on his arms – as much as he could, into the little space Steve had left between them – doing his best to shrug his way free of his clothes. Eagerly. Desperately. Steve was pushing the shirt back over Tony’s arms before he’d even torn the last button off, caressing his hands over Tony’s shoulders, digging his fingertips into his muscles. Kissing the side of Tony’s face, messy and desperate and uncontrolled, and then his neck, and then the newly exposed skin of his collarbone and shoulder blade. Tony panting and swallowing and trying to decide between grabbing at Steve and getting his shirt off.

And then Steve ran his palms the length of Tony’s arms, taking the shirt with him-

And the little patch, from Tony’s forearm.

Steve _sort of_ knew he’d done it. There was the vaguest flicker of an observation, somewhere on the peripheries, as he felt that little tug of gluey resistance… the foreign object he was distantly aware of, stuck to the outside of his thumb for a second, before it fell away…

And then he felt Tony _grab_ him.

He looked up in time to see Tony’s pupils dilate, his face twisting into an almost feral hunger, right before Steve’s eyes.

Steve felt his heart skip, his breath coming to a burning halt in his lungs. A sudden thickness in his throat, a pounding in his ears.

A single, immediate response, from every part of him.

_Yes._

_God yes._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate Chapter! Comes with too many notes...  
But, firstly, this chapter does start with smut - which is very much drug affected. Probably the most conventionally 'aliens made them do it', no control what-so-ever scenario in the fic... So, even though both parties are very enthusiastic, and neither regret the event after the fact, those dub-con warnings apply.  
After which, there is some introspection and serious conversation about the relationship - and that *isn't* actually drug fucked, for once. After all those chapters where they're emotional, and only focusing on one part of it, and in the middle of a revelation... this is where I'm laying out how they actually feel, at this stage in their lives. So (I'm nervous as hell about this, but) just to put it into context. 
> 
> (inhales nervously) Hope you like it!

Steve felt as though he’d just been thrown out of the real world.

Immediately, he remembered that illicit, guilty _longing_ he’d felt, when they first worked out what The Facility was – the idea he dared not look at. The desire he dare not name.

The _fantasy _of Tony Stark, wild with desperation for him, about to-

It was actually happening.

…That literal _fantasy _was actually happening.

Steve was suddenly outside of reality, beyond the context of their lives or the complexities of their relationship or the idea of consequences. This wasn’t even, ‘what would happen if Tony took a sex drug, in real life?’ – this didn’t feel like something that could happen in real life, even as it was happening. He -

And then Tony’s hands were on him, all over him, clawing him closer.

Tony’s mouth on his, devouring him, thorough and determined and desperate and messy.

The scrape of Tony’s teeth over Steve’s lips, the burn of his nails scratching over Steve’s skin.

Steve could hardly breathe. It was like there just too much excitement flooding through his body to leave room for mundane things like air. Tony was moving so urgently, so completely lost inside his own body, separate from the world. Somehow disconnected from Steve even though he was so impossibly focused on him. Steve couldn’t work out how to meet his movements, how to make sense of this frantic, animal urgency. He _wanted_ to grab at Tony, grind against him, kiss him back – but there was no logic to Tony’s actions, no pattern, no time to react to anything he was doing before-

And then that realisation… he could only _let_ Tony do this-

Oh, he _loved _that idea-

And then he felt Tony’s hands on his chest, palms flat – and, Jesus Christ, he was so _strong_ all of a sudden. There was a sharp thrill along Steve’s spine as he was forced onto his back, the instantly dizzying idea that… He really wasn’t sure he could have stopped Tony doing that-

And then Tony was on top of him, pinning him to the bed, covering him completely – grabbing mindlessly at Steve’s clothes and sucking deep, bruising kisses along his neck. Steve rocked up against him, wanting to feel that friction… wanting to feel Tony push back. _Wanting_ to feel trapped beneath him, at his mercy, entirely without authority or control or responsibility-

There was a raw, dragging burn across the back of Steve’s neck, as Tony pulled the fabric of his T-Shirt over his skin. The low, purring sound of the material being stretched to its limits, tearing. Steve knew Tony would literally rip it off of him before too long, and part of him wanted to wait for that – but he was completely beyond patience for anything. He managed to wriggle his arms free of the sleeves, inefficient and graceless, before he felt Tony yank the shirt over his head in a single fierce motion.

And then Tony’s hand curling under Steve’s shoulder, nails digging into Steve’s muscles, his other hand grabbing Steve roughly by the back of the neck. The solid pressure of Tony’s chest pressed hard against him. Tony used all of his strength to pull himself against Steve, grinding into him, forcing Steve’s head up so he could claim his mouth again. He kissed Steve like he was suffocating. Like he was trying to consume him. Steve felt his lungs burn and his head swim and didn’t think of the connection to breathing – he didn’t know he wasn’t. He’d forgotten he was supposed to.

Even this panicked, physical urgency felt good. The increasing need for oxygen, the pain of desperation, the wonderful abandon of it.

And then Tony finally broke the kiss, so that he could pepper biting little kisses over Steve’s jaw, and then the line of his throat. Steve felt a wave of euphoria roll through his head as he gasped for air, a sudden bloom of light and colour as he let himself _breathe_. His heart raced, high and tight in his chest. His grip on Tony loosened just a little, as his body relaxed into the relief of it-

And then tightened sharply, as he felt Tony bite his neck

It wasn’t intended to hurt, to break the skin. Apparently, even at the mercy of an impulse this powerful, even at this deep and fundamental a level – Tony didn’t want that. There was no aggression in any of this, no buried resentment, no fantasy about redressing the balance or making Steve pay… not anymore, at least. There was _just_ desperation now, and need, and lust, and love. Steve could feel it all there, hot and pure and powerful, in everything Tony was doing. In the deep, dull pain of Tony’s teeth digging into his flesh, just hard enough to bruise, right at the limit of how far Tony could go, to feel him and taste him and _have_ him, before he hurt him-

God, it felt _so_ good.

The pleasure of it throbbed through Steve, right down into the core of his spine, pulsing through his shoulders. He gasped, and gagged, and tried to say something like _please, again, that_ – but it just came out a whimpered string of A and G sounds. And then Tony moved to kiss lower down his neck, sucking hard enough to mark his skin, and lower, until he reached the curve of Steve’s shoulder. And then then he bit down again, just a _little_ harder into less sensitive skin, and Steve felt his whole body weaken.

He was entirely lost to this.

Steve felt like he was being _used_ – but not objectified. He knew that everything Tony was doing right now was for himself, that he was entirely beyond thinking about Steve’s experience, that this was all just an expression of his own desperation… And Steve knew it was _all_ for him. That the need that Tony was so singularly thinking of was a need to touch _Steve_. That all of his desire and urgency came direct from how much he loved him. That no one else could have met this need in Tony – no one else could have inspired it. Steve could _feel_ it.

It left Steve feeling like he was the centre of the universe, and also like he just wasn’t the point of what was happening. Like he was the most important person in existence, and like he didn’t matter at all-

He _loved_ it.

He just wanted to lie here and let Tony do whatever he wanted to him, use him again and again until he’d had his fill, love Steve as nakedly and as selfishly as he wanted to-

Steve had no choice about it, anyway.

It was all he could do to get a hold of Tony now; his movements were so erratic and determined and frenetic. Tony’s hands were all over him, groping at his shoulders and his arms and his chest and his hips, kissing every inch of Steve that he could reach. Steve clawed at Tony’s back just as desperately, panting for breath, rocking his hips up against Tony’s. Indulging in that friction without even knowing he was doing it, unable to distinguish that pleasure from all the other sensations running through him,

The kisses felt so good,

And Tony’s hands felt so good,

And being pinned under him like that was so good,

And then he felt Tony’s fingers dig into the sensitive flesh at the bend of his waist, and a shock of wonderful pain run through his muscles,

Tony’s other hand sliding up to the back of Steve’s head, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s hair in a searing grip,

And the hot sweep of Tony’s tongue over his throat, the tingle of cool air left in its wake,

He bucked up against Tony, sharp and hard, blindsided by the wave of pleasure that surged through him afterwards-

Doing it again,

And again,

Just wanting more, knowing it felt so good, _needing_-

And then he felt Tony force one hand down between the two of them, stroking roughly over the outline of Steve’s cock as he scrabbled rather awkwardly for the button at the top of Steve’s jeans. And, for a second, Steve’s head was just swimming from the sudden contact, his whole being focused on getting at more of it, mindlessly writhing up against Tony’s hand-

Making it harder to undress him-

Belatedly, Steve recognised that Tony was trying to undress him. The very last of his cognitive powers made a truly valiant attempt to pull together at this point, waving for Steve’s attention through the haze of lust-

_Tony is trying to undress you-_

A general understanding that he had to help with this. More than just getting them both out of their clothes… He knew he was the only one with _any_ hope of preparing them for this, at all-

He felt Tony grind his whole body against him,

A bodily desperation to carry on with it-

_Oh God I want him, I want, I want-_

Oh, but he couldn’t hurt him.

He had to think enough for that-

And in the most basic calculation Steve had ever done in his life, he worked out that it was probably better to try to prepare Tony than himself, that he’d fucked Tony a few hours ago and that might help, that…

…That he did have _everything_ in these pockets.

And, okay, that wouldn’t have included a little tube of lube, if it weren’t for the fact that Steve had kept his jeans on the last time he fucked Tony. It was only that his pocket had been the easiest place to stick it when he was done with it – but Steve knew that’s what he’d done.

And that was as much of an idea as he was up to having.

As much of a plan as they were going to get, between them.

And the hardest part about it was having to put enough distance between them to get their clothes off in the first place-

Oh, the pleading little whimper Tony made,

The way he dug his fingers in harder, tried to rock back against him,

Steve _just_ wanted to let him-

But instead he pushed Tony a little further from him, so that he could unfasten Tony’s belt and unzip his fly. Tony’s attention was immediately grabbed by this new idea, his fanatic attempts to get at Steve completely abandoned as he refocussed on just getting out of his clothes. Awkwardly, and roughly, and with Tony doing what little he could to help, Steve managed to push Tony’s pants and underwear down over his legs – enough for Tony to violently kick his way free of them. And then he went to finish undoing his own jeans, and felt Tony curl his fists into the material at his hips, and just force them down over his thighs – almost certainly tearing something.

And Steve knew he didn’t have to undress any more than that. He didn’t _have_ to make Tony move – so he wouldn’t.

He grabbed the lube from his pocket-

Oh, Jesus, Tony’s hand on his cock, sliding the length of him-

Steve hissed out a string of swearwords, arching his back, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as his whole body burned with the need for more. It _ached_, it was so much – and not enough.

Steve _made_ himself think about what he was doing, managing to flick the tube of lube open and squeeze a very generous amount of it over his fingers – even _as_ Tony’s hands were moving between his legs, tugging at his balls and a clawing at his thighs.

Steve drew in a scalding breath, and used his other hand to get hold of Tony by the hip, dragging him into position, so that Tony was straddling him.

He told himself to be as careful as he could be, to _try_ and go slow-

And then, as soon as he pressed two fingertips to Tony’s rim, Tony growled low in his chest, grabbing hold of Steve’s arm in an iron grip as he forced himself down onto Steve’s fingers, _hard_.

“Oh God Steve yes please more that please yes” Tony barked, already bucking his hips against him, working himself off against Steve’s hand. Steve pushed another finger into him, trying to push as much lube into him as he could, trying to match Tony’s erratic movements.

And then, in a sudden fit of impatience, like he’d simply _snapped_, Tony forced himself up. He snatched Steve’s hand out of the way, barely giving him a second to process what was going on before Tony had shifted-

Sinking down onto Steve’s cock

_So_ fast-

So _tight_-

Jesus fuck-

And Tony threw his head back and moaned, primal and wanton and loud enough that it must’ve echoed all down the hallway.

Steve gripped Tony’s hips before he could stop himself,

Thrust up into him before he could _think_-

_Slow down_

_Be careful_

_Don’t hurt him_

It was only an echo at this stage. A basic instinct. Just trying to contain himself, just for a minute, just because some little part of him remembered you were supposed to – even though Tony was already trying to move against him, a desperate, pleading edge on his shallow breathing,

_You have to go slow_

_You have to hold still_

And then Tony put a shaky hand to Steve’s forearm, looking to steady himself – or, more likely, looking for purchase, still trying to work himself off.

Tony’s grip slipping.

That distant little sensation…a harsh, abrasive tug against Steve’s skin-

His little drug patch, being knocked free…

_I have to fuck him._

_Now._

_Hard._

And there were no more words after that. No more ideas. Just a burning, physical need that he could feel in every part of him, a total focus he’d never felt before in his life, a heightening of pleasure to almost frightening levels.

He thrust up into Tony, and heard him _scream_ – a beautiful, vulnerable sound, naked and needy and desperate,

And again,

And again,

Tony’s nails digging hard into Steve’s arms

His high, incoherent pleading,

The heat of him

He heard Tony cry out again, and registered it only as another glorious sound to indulge in

He felt Tony jerk against him, his body twitching, tightening around Steve’s cock, suddenly just pushing against him, pushing him deeper,

He felt Tony shudder, and the hot, thick steam of come hitting his neck

Tony begging, already begging,

“_Please don’t stop Steve please keep fucking me please more please”_

Oh, God, Steve _couldn’t_ stop, he-

Just kept fucking into him, keeping up the same brutal pace, the same pounding rhythm. That all-encompassing pleasure flaring up at him with every thrust, rolling though his hips and up his back and then sharpening into need again – _again, again – _

Tony was entirely overwhelmed for a few seconds, his body weak and surrendered in the wake of his climax, just riding Steve helplessly… and then, so quickly, some of that tension returned to his arms. He braced himself to push back against Steve. He started to roll his hips again.

The next time Steve thrust into him Tony rocked to meet him, finally falling into sync with him. And, as Steve began to fuck him faster, Tony moved to meet his pace, rounding out every wave of pleasure, dragging every inch of friction out of him,

Like a natural extension of Steve’s body almost

Like Steve had sort of forgotten that there were two people in this, that all of existence wasn’t just part of this incredible, increasing sensation

And then that sudden spike of need,

That sharp, painful urgency,

That desperate pleasure sinking into a low ache

Every thrust not quite enough

But so close now,

So close,

“Oh God Steve oh Steve Jesus, _ohfuckohfuckohfuck-_”

A deep, almost _pained_ groan

A sudden bracing that Steve just carried on fucking into

Feeling Tony come over his stomach in intermittent, stuttered bursts as Steve just fucked him harder

_So close_

_So much_

_So good_

_So-_

And then something in him snapped.

He grabbed Tony by the waist, pulling Tony against him, burying himself deep inside him

A hot stab of blinding pleasure, an absolute onslaught of sensations all though his body,

The sound of his own voice, from miles away,

_“Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony…”_

Until there was nothing left.

He felt the room spin.

His mind just seemed to roll from under him

And then that… cloud, of pleasure and happiness and relief, just closing in around him.

Blotting everything else out.

*

The first actual thought to come into Tony’s head was that he was going to be covered in bruises.

This could’ve been minutes or hours after Tony collapsed onto Steve’s chest, panting and whimpering and pleading. He had no idea how long he’d whited out for, or how long it’d been since he’d come around, cradled tightly in Steve’s arms. And, for _however_ long it had been, there hadn’t been a single word in Tony’s head. There was just the rhythm of his heart… or possibly Steve’s… running all through his body, the sweet taste of the air, the gentle ebb and flow of release rippling through his muscles. Like his whole being had found that sweet spot in the middle distance and was simply floating there.

And then he found himself thinking of the name for that tender pulsing, all over his skin. Recognising that soreness, that fragility in his bones. That warm, deep contentment, that genuine, bodily comfort…

He remembered Steve – or rather, he worked out that this feeling of love and safety _was_ Steve… that was the name for it…

And Tony just let his thoughts drift, the same way he might have on a lazy Sunday morning. With no particular focus, no plan for where it was going, no endgame…

Thinking what beautiful skin Steve had

Idly wondering how he was going to explain the marks all over him – wondering if Steve would laugh, if he asked that question…

Remembering Rhodey’s off hand comment about Zan making friends with Nebula… hoping it was true, actually…

Thinking, as he so often did, that he loved Steve. So much. All of the time.

Reminding himself, as he had a thousand times since yesterday, that Steve _loved_ him…

And it felt… different, thinking it now.

In fact, Tony was just beginning to realise that all his thoughts felt slightly different, now… That things were coming to him easier, and clearer…

A revelation that was, for the moment, secondary to the actual thing he was thinking.

_Really_ thinking that Steve loved him. That he’d been in love with him, all that time…

And it was wonderful, of course. Even more so now that Tony’s mind wasn’t a dizzy mush, now that he was remembering what it really meant in the real world-

But it was more than that.

It _mattered_, that Steve loved him.

It was significant

It changed something…

And, for the first time in days, Tony found himself putting together a legitimate train of thought – one he actually felt in control of.

He thought back to his uneasy self-reflection, in those first few days, when he’d first started to wonder if he’d actually been mad at Steve for just not loving him back. When he first asked himself whether it was fair to be angry at Steve because his feelings had been hurt.

And he thought back to his emotional enlightenment a few moments ago, how _sure_ he’d been that he’d held Steve to a different standard to everyone else, that Steve hadn’t deserved such harsh treatment simply because Tony had fallen in love with him.

And he thought back further still, to all the bitter things they’d said to each other in Siberia and Germany, to the arguments they’d had in the compound, to the justifications that had run through his head when he relived those altercations at 3am, with a bottle gripped in one hand.

And after all this time looking at each of those perspectives in isolation, jumping from one to the other and driving himself mad trying to decide between them, Tony finally looked at it all together.

And he realised…

He was looking at two different things, here. He should _always_ have been asking two different questions.

There was the question of whether Steve could be forgiven. Whether, objectively speaking, his mistakes were too large, or his motivations too unsympathetic, or his remorse too insignificant or insincere. Whether Steve deserved any professional consideration, whether Tony could understand his mistakes, whether Tony could move past it, for himself.

And _then_ there was the question of whether Steve was good for him. Whether he deserved any sort of relationship with Tony, whether what they did to each other was too harmful to continue with. Whether they were just too different to each other, if their disagreements and disappointments were symbolic of some more fundamental incompatibility – even if that wasn’t anyone’s fault. Whether Tony would always be the person chasing, never the equal partner, destined to be hurt time and again. Whether Tony should cut all ties and just move on with his life, for himself.

And now Tony realised, he _had_ let that second issue colour the first. He had allowed his hurt to bleed into his anger. He had convinced himself that Steve’s crimes were proportionate to the pain they’d caused him, that Steve’s penance should be in some way comparable to Tony’s heartbreak – which meant he’d always felt Steve was due more punishment that someone he didn’t care about… simply _because_ he loved him. He’d been _less_ fair to Steve than he would have been to a stranger. He’d not sulked about when Wanda was asked to join the Avengers after Sokovia, the way he had Steve being invited back ‘after what he did to him’.

Because Tony had been twisting the facts to fit his feelings – and _that _had been wrong.

Even though Tony thought… he _did_ still think he had a right to be angry, that Steve _should_ have apologised for those mistakes and it was fair enough to have said so… He _also_ knew he’d let his hurt push his anger to beyond the point of reason, aimed it in the wrong places and put it out of all context. He was sorry for that.

But he _also_ knew…

His hurt was an entirely different thing to his anger – and it _had_ been important.

That it was actually okay to end a relationship, to decide someone didn’t deserve his love for no other reason than they didn’t return it. It would have been a completely valid reason to walk away… he didn’t have to justify that.

And, maybe it was just that he hadn’t been brave enough to really think of this, before. Back when he’d been so in love with Steve, and so sure that it could only be bad for him – when he hadn’t wanted to ask himself if he should walk away, because he thought he knew the answer, and he knew he wouldn’t like it…

But now that he didn’t have to be afraid of that answer…

Knowing that Steve was in love with him really _shouldn’t_ change how angry he was, even retrospectively… But if Tony was perfectly honest with himself, it _had_. At least… it had stopped him being blinded by hurt for long enough to be a bit more rational, allowed him to take back the anger that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. It had helped him see things the way he always should have – which was that yeah, Steve had made mistakes and owed him an explanation and it was right that he dealt with the anger that he’d _legitimately_ earned. But that, obviously, Tony could _forgive_ him. If Tony judged Steve by the same criteria as he did anyone else, then he could clearly accept an apology and lessons learned as enough for Steve to be welcomed onto the team again, for Tony to move on from what happened. The fact that Steve loved him, and the fact that Tony knew it now, didn’t _actually_ have any baring on that… It had just helped him work it out, that was all.

But knowing that Steve loved him _could _change how personally hurt Tony was, about what happened. It _should_ change Tony’s opinion of whether this thing could work. That’s the bit where it mattered, knowing how Steve felt about him.

Because Tony had never _owed_ it to Steve to like him in the first place. He wasn’t obliged to form any sort of bond with Steve, he didn’t have to give a reason to take it back. And it was perfectly valid for Tony to be more _hurt_ by what Steve had done, because of their personal history. It would’ve been perfectly reasonable for Tony to say he’d never love Steve again, after what happened. It actually _would_ have been unhealthy, to carry on pining over Steve if Steve really _hadn’t_ given Tony a second thought throughout that whole thing, if he hadn’t felt any remorse after the fact. Whether other people thought it was reasonable, whether it was comparable to how Tony felt in other situations, was irrelevant here – that had always been his choice to make, his question to answer. For himself.

And it _was_ okay for it to have changed things, hearing Steve say that he’d always loved him.

It was okay to say that he would love Steve, and trust Steve and share his life with Steve if Steve loved him back, and trusted him in return, and was willing to share as much with him – but not otherwise.

It was okay to feel differently about Steve now that he knew how Steve had felt about him.

And it did change something.

It meant he could look at Steve and feel nothing but love and affection.

It meant that this thing could really work…

And… that was a more coherent and complete conclusion than Tony had managed to come to on anything, this week…

This was the most balanced he’d felt, trying to work anything out, since they got here…

And, finally, it dawned on him-

He was sober.

Genuinely clearheaded.

Thinking like a normal person.

Not feeling even remotely drug fucked, for the first time since they walked through the front door-

Oh, but even more than that…

Tony felt more rational and comfortable and in control right now than he had in _years_. Finally free from so many limitations, not swayed by rage or pain or guilt or fear, not trying to avoid anything or force anything or make anything right in his head – just thinking. Really, just… thinking.

It wasn’t even that it corrected his previous thoughts… although it _would_ probably correct a few details, when he got to them… but, mostly, Tony just felt like he could see _more,_ now. Like he could take in all those perspectives at the same time, like maybe he could finally lay it all out and weigh it all up, fairly…

And he looked at Steve, lying on his back, still drifting in and out of awareness… that pretty, happy smile on his lips…

And Tony thought about all the things that had happened between them, all the different things that Tony had thought, all the different ways he’d felt about it… He thought through every outburst either of them had given into, since they arrived at The Facility, he let himself think back over how they came to be here…

And he asked himself… calmly, and with a completely open mind…

_Did_ he blame Steve, for what had happened in Siberia? Did he really think any of the things he’d said, while he’d had Steve chained to a bed – did he _still_ think any of them?

_Did_ he blame himself, for what had gone wrong between them, before Siberia? Had he really been that insensitive, was he really so unfair, that whole time?

Or _was_ he still hurt by Steve’s behaviour in the last seven years – wherever it had come from?

_Were_ his hurt feelings important, and real, had he been right to share them, to expect them to matter, to hold Steve responsible for dismissing them?

_Was _it unfair, to hold Steve responsible for the hurt he’d caused rather than the things he’d done? To hold Steve to a higher standard because Tony loved him more, trusted him more, _wanted_ more from him?

And, as Tony ran though all of his recent revelations and all his lifelong assumptions, _all_ the things that had happened…

There was the answer.

Clear, and complete, and confident-

_Sort of._

And it wasn’t a step on the path to an answer or a compromise between two answers or even Tony coming to terms with the fact that he didn’t have an answer – it _was_ an answer. _The_ answer.

It was _all_ of those things. They could all be true - or _sort of_ true, at least… and, if he’d just calmed down and looked at _everything_ – rather than jumping from being hyper focused on his own failings, to being hyper focused on Steve’s mistakes, and then being confused because it all looked so different…

It was like a huge, complicated jigsaw puzzle. It was _never_ going to make sense for as long as he focused on two random pieces from completely different parts of the picture – even if they _were_ both real pieces. But taken as a whole… It could all be true and all fall into place and all be a part of this thing between them. This one complete picture, that did make sense…that was so much more beautiful than an easier puzzle would’ve been…

Tony _did_ still hold Steve responsible for the mistakes he’d legitimately made. For keeping that secret – which, actually, Tony did still think had been more than ‘one mistake’ – and for not calling him earlier, and for not trying to meet him halfway in the negotiations…

But that wasn’t the same as the things he _had_ been blaming Steve for. And even if it wasn’t ‘one mistake’… it wasn’t the callous, self-interested betrayal that Tony had turned it into, either. 

And Tony could see that it was also true that _he_ hadn’t tried to meet Steve halfway. They’d _both_ retreated to their corners. For complex, understandable, infuriating, personal reasons – which had fucked it up, regardless.

It was _also_ true that Tony had made his own mistakes during that whole ordeal – some of them pretty damn serious.

And it was _also_ true that… well, he _had _made mistakes like the mistake Steve had made – secretly building fifty suits behind Peppers back for months wasn’t ‘one mistake’, either…

And the fact that Tony had made mistakes – even _similar_ mistakes – didn’t make what Steve did right. It didn’t mean that Steve didn’t have to apologise, or that Tony couldn’t expect Steve to feel bad for what he’d done…

But it was _also_ true that Tony should be able to understand how a good man can get into that situation, that he should’ve known better than to turn Steve into a spiteful arrogant ideologue before he’d even talked to him…

It was _also_ true that Tony had always had his own apologies to make, regardless of what Steve had done.

And, seeing as Steve _had_ apologised, and had learned from all of it, and had felt bad for it…

It really _was_ okay to move past those things. To put them into the bigger picture.

Tony _had_ meant a lot of what he’d said in that fantasy room. Some of it he should have said to other people. He’d used bad examples for some of it, and he’d let genuine points get exaggerated into something else – he’d allowed ‘you should apologise for some of those choices’ to become ‘you reckless, stupid bastard’… He’d let a legitimate criticism of Steve’s judgement get boiled down to one – arguably unfair – point about Scott Lang’s criminal record… He’d said ‘I am angry’ when he’d _meant_ ‘I am hurt’… and he might not have realised that, at the time.

But he _was _allowed to be hurt.

He was right to tell Steve his point of view, as well as being right about several of those arguments.

There had been real points, at the heart of all that.

It was the things Tony had chosen _not_ to mention, just then. The choices _he’d_ made, the events that didn’t fit his chosen narrative – the arguments that hadn’t made the grade, when he was cherry picking the one’s that suited him.

And, when he started going through _that_ list, Tony realised – he’d basically meant the emotional apology that he’d just broken down into, too.

And, okay… maybe he’d not used the best examples during that rant either. Maybe he’d pushed certain points beyond being _strictly_ accurate, purely on his own strength of feelings… he knew he’d not worded it all that well. But, just like his first breakdown, there was truth at the heart of it.

He might not have been _quite_ the insensitive ass that he’d just tearfully begged forgiveness for being… But he knew it was true that he’d never put himself in Steve’s shoes, not really. That he’d put Steve on a pedestal, that he’d not been fair to him – that he _had_ been insensitive, plenty of times. The essence of his apology was real.

Maybe the specific events he’d chosen to apologise for weren’t the best examples of what he was getting at – but, on each occasion, he’d been getting at something legitimate.

He was genuinely glad he’d given that emotional an apology for what he did in the bunker, to Bucky _and_ to Steve… That felt fitting, actually…

And, more to the point, it made total sense for him to have meant _both_ of his drug fuelled outbursts – because they’d been on different topics entirely.

Tony smiled to himself, wondering how it had taken him this long to work out… And realised-

Because he’d only ever had half of the pieces.

There had never been any way for him to fix this, on his own.

Whether it was right or wrong or fair or otherwise… He _had_ needed to hear Steve say he was sorry first. Maybe he couldn’t _know_ that Steve was unfeeling or arrogant, based on his silences – but he couldn’t know otherwise, either. And, in this instance, Tony _had_ needed Steve to show him who he was talking to, before he could talk. He couldn’t have understood Steve’s actual mistakes and empathised with his genuine situation if Steve hadn’t shown him what they were – he couldn’t be expected to forgive the man Steve actually was, based purely on actions that had been given no explanation.

And – whether it was right or wrong or fair or otherwise – he felt like Steve had needed Tony to have that rant, before he _could_ say he was sorry. Before he _could_ understand the hurt he’d caused Tony. Maybe Tony just had to be honest, and vulnerable, and set aside those hard-learned defences, before Steve could do the same. Maybe Steve had just needed that guidance, whatever form it came in…

Maybe Tony had needed to put focus on his perspective, before he _could _step back and see this thing as a whole.

Maybe Steve had needed Tony to explain his point of view, to show him the rest of the picture, before he could really think about his own side of it…

Maybe it was just that, this time, Tony had to have his say, before he _could_ make his apologies… And maybe it was just that Steve had to make his apologies _before_ he felt free to have his say….

Tony wasn’t sure of all the details, yet.

But he was sure that there would be nothing he _could_ do differently, if he woke up on the floor of that Bunker right now, and it was 2016. Even with all these new revelations, he would always have been stuck without some offering from Steve… And yeah, he could’ve apologised for the whole Bucky thing sooner, he could have amended a few individual mistakes. Maybe he’d have been less inarticulately furious, when they finally saw each other again…

But he couldn’t have called and asked for forgiveness. He couldn’t have simply said he understood a thousand things that Steve hadn’t even said. He couldn’t have started by saying they could move past it – not with only that letter between them. It wasn’t even a pride thing. It just wouldn’t have worked. It would have only dealt with a tiny part of the picture. It would have left all those issues out there, waiting for them – all the revelations he was sure Steve wouldn’t have come to, if it had gone that way…

And, even if Steve could go back, and redo everything from that moment onwards… Tony wasn’t sure that would be a good thing, either. Even if Steve _had_ sent a perfect apology along with that phone… Sure, that might’ve helped matters. Maybe Tony would’ve called the phone, then. Maybe they’d have got to a conversation sooner. But it would still have left all of Tony’s insecurities and neurosis and anger under the surface, if he’d not been pushed to letting them all go like that. It would have left all of _his_ mistakes unexplored and all of his misconceptions in place – and Steve with no way of explaining them, not without something to push him to risk an emotional rant.

Tony couldn’t quite believe he was thinking this, after two and a half years of abject misery…

…But he really _was_ happy that it had happened, exactly as it had.

And, as he was letting this joyous revelation settle, he noticed Steve looking at him. His eyes more focused now – obviously indulging in his thoughts of his own…

Tony smiled, softly. Raised his eyebrows in a gently questioning gesture… _what’re you thinking?_

And Steve smiled, and let go of a little sigh, squeezing Tony’s arms when he told him,

“I’m really sorry I just told Adam that the whole thing in Siberia was one mistake.”

And Tony almost laughed. How strange it was to feel like Steve could actually read his mind – as compared to the days when he wondered whether Steve could even see him. He couldn’t help thinking of how he might’ve heard Steve’s outburst, just last week. Back when he used to take Steve’s every statement at face value. Back when he used to comb through their every argument like a defence attorney, assigning layers and layers of meaning to every word and then defending that interpretation as fact… Back when Steve would never have just said sorry for that. When Steve would have kicked himself for it, and resolved never to do it again, and never thought to let Tony know…

This was all so much better.

“I really _wasn’t_ talking about you,” Steve explained, earnest and sincere and clearly concerned… but not anguished in quite the same way he was, before he’d had a chance to work all this through “I was talking to Adam, and I was talking _about_… I mean, I _do_ hate that thing people do. I do hate the fact that… that way every mistake feels like such a big deal, and it does feel like it’s different for me… That was true. And I’m kind of embarrassed anyway, but… I _do_ hate when people do that. And…” He took another little breath, a blush colouring his cheeks now, “Honestly, even more embarrassing than that… I probably _did_ think of…all that, as one mistake, at one point. Or, I don’t know, I hadn’t unpacked it at all, I’d just… assumed the guilt for it, like a Captain going down with his ship, never _really_ thinking about the details of it all, not like I see it now. I think, at one point, I had just accepted that I ‘screwed up that whole thing’, like it was one thing… and maybe, yeah, there were times I resented just how much had been fucked up by that mistake…”

And then he fixed his eyes on Tony, his tone more serious when he carried on,

“But I don’t think that now, is my point. I did listen, when you were saying what a huge catalogue of mistakes that lie led to, and the fact that it _wasn’t_ one lie – and I meant it when I said I was sorry. I know you were right. I just… when I went to explain _that thing_, because I wanted to say it to _Adam –_that was just the example I remembered. From before I realised all this. The… fact that I was so hurt, after that outburst, when you came back from space… that’s just the one I _remembered_, when I tried to think of a time… and it was a stupid example. It was always a stupid example, and I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay.” Tony soothed. And then he grinned, thinking how important it was that he could finally say these words,

“I know what you meant.”

And Steve smiled again… like he’d waited just as long to hear them.

“And… Honestly, that rant when I came back from space – I don’t think that was your _best_ example, of me being unreasonable.” Tony went on, snuggling closer to Steve as he spoke “I mean, maybe it wasn’t my most rational contribution, but it’s probably not the thing I would’ve gone all Dawson’s Creek over, if I’d had to pick just the one… But, you know, that’s because there _are_ better examples – because, ultimately, I know you did have a point.”

“And I _am_ sorry Tony.” Steve went on… like he was _just_ talking “For the things I did, and the way I treated you, and so many of the choices I made. I should have told you about your parents, right from the start. I wish I’d called you after Bucky broke out of the compound. I’m sorry for so many of the things I did, and said, when I was in a panic of my own making. I _didn’t_ mean to exclude you, or disrespect you, or, any of that – but I know I still did those things, and I’m still sorry. I might not have put any intention into hurting you, but I didn’t put nearly enough into _not_, and I’m sorry for that. And I wish – but, its more than any of those things. I wish I’d _seen_ you. I wish I’d been braver, and looked at all of this before I wrote that letter… before any of it happened. And I am so sorry for the hurt it all caused. I _would_ give anything to take that back.”

And Tony raised his head to look at Steve again before he spoke. So that Steve would see him smile when he said.

“Good. So you should be.”

And Tony meant that. Tony felt good for saying that.

But. _Also_.

“_That’s_ what you should be sorry for.” Tony added, softly “Not… for being an evil, self-righteous, cold hearted bastard. Not for deciding I didn’t matter. Not for being pig headed, and too stubborn to listen, and too arrogant to see… Not for a lot of the things I decided you were, that I was mad over. And, in amongst _all_ the things that are true, there is the fact that I did hold you to a different standard over it, over everything really, and _in with_ my genuine hurt were probably things that weren’t fair, or real, or really your fault. You know…There are a few things _I _really did think, at one time… and I don’t, now. I _did_ hold you responsible for consequences, _along with_ your actions. I did think you _should_ have been there… In with all the things I’m glad I said, and still think I was right over… there _are _bits I take back, actually.” 

Steve pulled him closer then, breathing him in. Kissing Tony’s forehead so very tenderly that Tony had to pause for a second, just to let that shiver run through him…

“And, for what it’s worth…” He went on, eventually “You’re not the only one who let emotion and drugs and a few… previous misconceptions… twist what might otherwise have been a good point. When I had you chained to a bed, _and_ when you had me pinned to a giant mattress – and can we just take a moment, to appreciate that sentence, before we go on?”

Steve giggled at that, a warm, lyrical sound that Tony could feel the length of his body…

“But, yeah…” Tony tried to pull himself back to the point “ You know, I think I _do_ have a point, when I said that you made some reckless choices, for selfish reasons, and you should apologise for it… And then I went off on a rant, and gave a whole bunch of examples you could probably argue with, and analogies you could pick to pieces… I did turn ‘you made reckless choices, for selfish reasons’ into ‘you are a reckless, selfish asshole’. Which wasn’t fair – but it doesn’t make those underlying points any less right, or any less important, either.” He could feel Steve nodding as he spoke “So, you know, even if you sober up and think that there were probably a few things you just said that were a bit… over the top, and probably not your best examples – I still know you did have _a_ point in all that. And that still matters, and this still helps.”

And then an idea occurred to him… A point he hadn’t thought of making before right this moment. A _slight_ aside, from their exchange of apologies…

But, as they _were_ just talking…

“You know… that _is_ how people talk, Steve.” Tony said, softly. “I mean, at least some of the time. Especially to people they care about – the people who really know them, the people who are there all the time… they _are_ the one’s you rant at, sometimes. They’re the people who get to hear you say ‘I hate everyone’ or ‘no one listens to me’ or ‘that’s the last time I bother’. Because _they’re _the people who _know what you mean_. They’re supposed to know you mean… I’m just really upset, right now, or I feel ignored, or this is really hard for me at the moment. They’re _supposed _to let you get an idea or an irrational feeling out there, without pouncing on it… And I’m sorry I didn’t, by the way. I know I’m one of the people who did that, who probably made you feel this way in the first place. But… You know Captain America, from the comic books?”

And Steve actually nodded, absent-mindedly, as if to say, _yeah, I know him_… Which Tony found heart-clenchingly endearing – but he carried on.

“Well, I _know_ he always had a snappy comeback, and every argument he ever made was entirely reasonable and contained only truth and rightness – but that’s because he literally has a team of writers. People who spend two weeks crafting that snappy comeback, and rewrite those arguments thirty times, and just don’t have anything controversial come up. They’re never angry or hurt, when they write that dialogue. And no one can talk like that in real life. I’m sorry people expect you to. I’m sorry I did. But… If you always have to mean every word you say, you’re never going to be able to say what you mean. You’re never going to be able to share anything if you have to wait until you’re sure it’s perfect first. I mean, you’re talking to someone who lost their temper three days ago and yelled at you because I felt _left out_.”

Steve huffed a kind little laugh at that, and squeezed Tony’s shoulders – and Tony allowed himself a self-depreciating little smile before he continued,

“And I _am_ sorry, for what I did in that bunker.” Tony breathed. “I am sorry that handled the Accords so badly, even if I’d still sign them. And… you know, I’m sorry I’d convinced myself that it wasn’t _anything_ to do with the Accords, in the end. I even remember where that started. One night, right back at the beginning – when I was petulantly, irrationally ranting at Rhodey, actually – and I said, _so_ triumphantly, ‘He found out about my parents before Sokovia even happened, how can it all be about the Accords’. And I think I probably had _a_ point, back then. Trying to say that it wasn’t _all_ about the Accords… but, I _did_ let that become ‘it wasn’t even _about_ the Accords!’, over time… and yeah, thinking about it fairly, it was at least a _bit_ about that. I still should’ve thought about that side of things, rather than just discounting it, cos it wasn’t the bit _I_ was mad about…”

And it was nice, apologising like this – that particular revelation had been real, at least.

It did help, to clear the air and clarify the situation and cleanse the soul… Well, if it was done like this.

Not if you were saying it just to get to some desired outcome

Not if you were saying it just because you felt you had to

Not if you were saying it just because you thought the other person wanted to hear it.

But, when he was free to explain and he knew Steve was listening and he meant every word… yeah, this was nice, actually.

“And I really _am_ sorry that I was so… insensitive, when we first met. For lots of times I wasn’t really thinking about things from your point of view” Tony breathed, “I am sorry for not giving you a bit more credit when the whole thing with Bucky was happening, and for not listening more… I _am_ sorry for not listening at the airport – even if, honestly, I _also_ think you were less than helpful, at the airport… it can _all_ be true. And I’m sorry for my part in it – and for spending so long only thinking about your part of it, on its own.”

And Steve breathed him in, and whispered, very close and very soft, “Thank you.”

And then Tony _felt_ him smile. He could hear it in the pause he left. And then he added.

“But. _Also._”

And he shifted a little, gently putting his hand to the side of Tony’s face, _look at me._

“_I _am sorry, that I convinced myself it was _all_ about the Accords.” Steve told him, when Tony met his eye. “I’m sorry that I boiled it all down to that, and didn’t think enough about the other side of it, especially since I’ve been back. And… you know, _I’m _sorry, for some of the things I said when we first met. Even if there are reasons and – whatever, my point is… I do look back and think of telling you that I knew guys worth ten of you, and that you weren’t the guy to make the sacrifice play – and, if nothing else, that’s just really embarrassing.”

Tony giggled then – mainly at the genuine, conversational way Steve had said it. The fact that it wasn’t how he was expecting him to finish the sentence.

“Obviously, I didn’t know at the time” Steve went on “But I sometimes think of that, of anyone watching a tape of it… how everyone else must’ve been thinking – _should’ve_ been thinking… _isn’t that Tony Stark?_ That I was saying that to… So, yeah, I do regret that, obviously. And I would obviously handle the whole Accords thing differently now – better. I just…”

And Steve let himself trail off, the slightest hint of a shrug under Tony’s head, _you know what I mean._

And Tony did.

He actually did.

“I also feel pretty stupid for saying that everything special about you came out of a bottle” Tony commented, lightly. And Steve laughed, softly… and then there was a considered little pause…

“Is it weird…” Steve asked, thoughtfully “That I do feel that rant was entirely fair, _to Adam…_ But that I wouldn’t have said it to you? I mean… this sounds awful, but I’d completely forgotten you were there… And, I don’t know… That whole thing actually becomes less reasonable in my head, just because you were…”

“Well, I don’t know about weird.” Tony frowned. “I mean – you _should_ be able to say all of that to me-”

“I don’t really mean that.” Steve mused. “I mean… When I look at people like Adam, I have that rant in my head – because it’s true, of those people. _They_ don’t know me, and I _don’t_ owe them anything, and they have no right to judge me. As far as _Adam _knows, it was just one mistake, and… And it’s not that I wouldn’t tell you I think this. It’s not that I’m scared of showing it, not anymore. It’s just – that isn’t the rant that comes into my head, when I look at you. It was never _that_ rant, even when it was the wrong rant. Honestly, there aren’t many people _more _entitled to that rant than I am… But I do know, just how many people have done that to _you_. I would never have been trying to tell _you_ what it’s like, to have supervillains blame you because someone died…”

And Tony laughed again… and quite enjoyed the revelation that they did have that in common…

“And, when I look at you – now, especially… I know I do have something to make up to you.” A more aware sort of sincerity had come into Steve’s voice now, a _little _more tension in his back “I know that you do have a right to comment, you do know me and you were there and… And I do owe you something. I always owed you more than I owed other people, because you were _always_ my friend, and this bond was always here, and I… _like_, the idea of you caring what I do, of you expecting more of me than you could a stranger.” A shade more emotion came into his tone, words came just a little quicker “I want you to trust me, and… I know I have to earn that back. I know, whatever has happened in the last few days, this can only be a start – and I swear, I will… But, what I mean is…”

And he caught himself, and took a little breath, and made himself slow down. 

“I did mean it, when I told _Adam_ I was good enough… Good enough for the likes of _him_, and to be able to judge what he was doing and, I don’t know… To exist, I guess, since people like that never seem to think it… But, I look at _you_, and I think – I _can_ be good enough. Even though I know I’ve messed it all up so badly, and I could never expect you to forgive me… If you’re willing to give me a chance, I promise, I can be good enough, for you”

“Of course I forgive you.” Tony whispered, like it had been a silly question – which, okay, was a bit rich, given what Tony had been thinking a week ago… But it did seem like a silly question, now. “And… honestly, I kind of know there’s no point in me asking whether you forgive me…” Which Steve answered with a little laugh, _silly question_.

But Tony was quite serious when he added,

“But I’m going to work to earn it anyway. I know this is just a start, too. I know I have to put as much work in… to this, and… to me, probably. There probably _are _issues that I need to work on, for both of us… But, I promise, I’m going to treat you better. Even those things you don’t expect of me and wouldn’t ask of me – because you deserve it. You deserve a lot more than you’ve ever expected, and I love you, and I’m going to do it anyway. So there.”

And, yeah, there probably _were_ a lot of complicated issues to be dealt with. A few awkward conversations to have, a couple of important topics still to discuss. This was the first step on a new journey, a relationship that would no doubt have its ups and downs and its own unique challenges… All of that was objectively, undeniably true.

But. It was _also _true that…

In this one moment, everything was – quite simply – good.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that it has taken me literally a week to *proofread* a chapter that was written a month ago - It's been a hectic Christmas 😂
> 
> But, at last - it's finished!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic, and to all the people who too the time to comment and engage with it - I can't tell you how much that has meant! For those who wish to indulge me further... there are a few questions in the end notes that I'd love some feedback on... 😘
> 
> But to everyone, thank you again - and have a very happy New Year!

They laid there for a little while longer. Quietly enjoying a perfect moment together, after all that complicated heartache. The few minutes, after they’d sobered up enough to really appreciate everything, and before real life had a chance to intrude…

And then, eventually, Steve recognised that there was come in his hair.

That, actually, both of them were still naked, and sticky… that his clothes were likely stretched or even torn… and he couldn’t remember about Tony’s… That, all in all, they should probably put some active thought into their situation before the recovery team made it down to the second floor.

Steve glanced down at Tony, regretfully, and saw a similar expression on Tony’s face… which then melted into a smile.

“Come on” Tony whispered, finally sitting up. “Let’s go home.”

And, well. When he put it like that.

“We should head back to the room first” Steve sighed, as he pulled his misshapen t-shirt down to cover the obvious tears in the seams at the top of his jeans. He saw Tony blush… and bite back a grin.

“Also, I’ve probably left some sort of tech there…” Tony mused, obviously still thinking about what had happened in this room rather than anything they might have left in theirs.

And Steve let his eyes run over Tony’s body… the marks he’d left on Tony’s neck, the fingertip bruises on Tony’s chest – which Steve could only see because he’d torn so many of the buttons from the front of Tony’s shirt…

It was the first time any of what they’d done had been presented to a completely sober mind. The first time Steve had any hope of putting it into the context of his life… his reputation, the expectations of him, the history of his life so far…

He, Steve Rogers, former altar boy and Captain America, had just fucked Tony Stark in a public room, whilst under the influence of sex drugs.

It was only a few hours ago that he’d fucked Tony in a _bar_, surrounded by other people.

It was only just over 24 hours, since Tony had him chained to a bed.

…It had been a busy few days.

And Steve found himself grinning too, as they made their way out to the corridor – one hand holding Tony’s, the other holding onto the waist band of his jeans. He was…relieved? Happy?

…Excited, even?

Just realising… he _wasn’t_ scared of anyone finding out what had happened here. He wasn’t anxious about it, or guilty, or even confused.

Realising that… he _didn’t_ feel like a completely changed man.

That all of this had actually made him feel more like himself

A more complete version of himself.

A more honest version of himself.

That was a genuinely nice feeling – even without drugs to enhance it.

In fact, as they made their way back to the suite, Steve recognised that he was _enjoying_ these thoughts… that, for maybe the first time in ten years, he really _could_ let his mind wander entirely freely, with no need of chemical encouragement, without fear for what might be lurking in the dark.

And it wasn’t that he had no guilt over any of his past decisions, all of a sudden.

It wasn’t that he thought they’d finished with the complicated discussions, or that everything was going to be perfect from now on.

It wasn’t that he thought the hard work was over.

But Steve wasn’t scared of any of that, the way he used to be. He didn’t feel so alone with all of it anymore. He didn’t feel so entirely pressured by all of it, so overwhelmed by any of it – so completely defined by those parts of it.

He felt like whatever difficulties there might be, there was _so_ much more to be excited about…

This was a start.

This was just the beginning of this relationship – the very start of the great love affair of Steve’s life.

And, okay, most relationships don’t require quite so much angst and longing and soul searching and regret and revelation before they even _begin_. Most people don’t have to take quite as much baggage on their _first_ date…

But, then again… Most people hadn’t shared this much, or dealt with this much, or thought about this much, before they even started. Most people didn’t go on their first date already knowing that the other person understood them, and adored them, and would go that far to be with them.

Steve had spent his whole life judging everything he did, and everything he was, by how much better it could have been. He’d always been too focused on his obligations and his failings to see the rest of the picture.

But.

Thinking about _everything_

And being fair to himself.

And keeping in mind everything he’d already learned.

Yeah, this was a pretty good _start_.

And Steve knew there might be something other than delirious joy, at some point… But that was true of any good relationship. And, if _any_ two people had a chance of making a happy life out of all the complexities of two distinct human experiences – at least they were starting out honest, and open, and equally willing to try.

By the time they actually reached their room, Steve was smiling so much his face ached. And then Tony glanced up at him, smiling just as broadly, and they both recognised what they were doing at the same moment – and laughed.

And, oh, Steve was just so happy.

Sober, and clear headed, and thinking of _everything_ – and still, so happy.

Because, on the grandest scale, in the long term – his entire world view had changed, and for the better.

And, in the moment – he could just think how pretty Tony was right now, and kiss him.

And when he did… When he felt Tony’s smile melt against his lips, his hands snaking around his waist, warm and affectionate and _real_…

Steve would have endured every trauma of his life, a thousand times over, for this.

He recognised that what he had in this one moment was more than most people got to feel in a lifetime.

And those people might have lives free of pain and sacrifice and conflict. They might get to live their entire lives never knowing the loss that Steve had gone through time and time again. But those people – _most _people – would live their whole lives never knowing elation as pure and overwhelming as this. In reality, most people _don’t_ get to meet a person who astounds them and excites them and challenges them, more than any fantasy they could’ve dreamed up. They never get to meet someone as beautiful and brilliant and brave as Tony Stark. They never get to experience a love affair this all-encompassing, this life-affirming – this _exciting._ For most people, a moment like this is just a fairy tale.

…A _lifetime_ like this.

A whole life spent with someone he loved so much that it had changed him, someone who broadened his world and soothed his pain and made him feel whole again. A life with someone who understood him, and knew all of him, and who wanted to be his equal… his partner. A life of fun, and laughter, and affection. 

A life like that was worth fighting for.

A life like that was worth suffering for.

A life like that was worth a lot of sacrifices.

And if everything Steve had been through, from 1918 until right this moment, had come to lead him here…

It wasn’t that Steve was any less furious at the people who had wronged him, just because things had worked out for the best. It wasn’t that he suddenly thought these injustices and awful crimes were vindicated, because they’d _happened for a reason_.

But Tony was right – it could be _both_.

Steve could still hate every spiteful ideologue who had inadvertently put him on this course. He could still imagine an ideal world, in which he could have met Tony without _quite_ so much loss and trauma.

And, at the same time, he could look at Tony now and think,

_Totally worth it. _

_Wouldn’t change a thing._

*

They chose to shower together – mainly because, by then, they both just wanted to get into the shower.

At that point, sex has fallen outside the sphere of relevance. It was quite obvious that this moment wasn’t about that – not least because, for both of them, their bodies were catching up with all the physical limitations that the drugs had allowed them to forget.

By the time they got into the bathroom, Tony was itchingly uncomfortable in his sweaty, sticky clothing, and increasingly aware of how sore he was – and how tired. His muscles seemed to get denser as he undressed, and by the time he got to stepping into the shower, he was glad he had Steve to lean on….

And he carried on resting his weight against Steve, as the warm water soaked through his hair and washed his body clean, occasionally peppering little kisses to Steve’s neck that were more affectionate than sensual. Eventually he let his head just fall onto Steve’s shoulder, his whole body pressed against him. And then Tony felt the firm caress of a washcloth over his back, the slippery sensation of luxury soap, softening his skin… He sighed, happily, and surrendered to it. Tilting his head back to let Steve run one hand into his hair… instinctively taking the washcloth, so that Steve could use both hands to work his hair into a lather… so that he could run strands of Tony’s hair over all ten fingers, as he let the water rinse through it…

And it just felt so _nice_.

Not building to anything.

Not foreplay for anything.

Just a gentle pleasure, in and of itself.

Tony ran the washcloth over Steve’s back without really thinking about it… simply enjoying the way Steve sighed. Liking the idea of Steve being comfortable, and happy – just that. Tony gently caressed the cloth over Steve’s shoulders, down along his spine, washing away the flecks of congealed blood that were the only evidence of how desperately Tony had clawed at him, thanks to the healing potential of the serum. He worked his way down to Steve’s hips, over another collection of scratches, over his ass and between his legs… It felt intimate, and caring, and romantic even. But entirely without agenda. The kisses they shared were soft, and unhurried, and tasted of fresh water. The way Steve held him was permanent and solid and _safe_.

By the time Steve turned the water off, Tony felt giddy. Weak. Heavy and weightless, all at once.

He liked it.

He let Steve take his weight as he stepped out of the shower. He indulged in that held feeling, as Steve wrapped a towel around his shoulders, and pulled him in. By the time they made it into the living room again, Tony was having more difficulty walking in a straight line than he had when he was on drugs.

It wasn’t until he was halfway through getting dressed again – into clothes he couldn’t remember retrieving, or Steve passing to him, he was so sleepy – that he thought to glance at the clock.

7:42am – at least, in Facility time.

Tony tried to think of what time he’d woken up that morning… and all he could remember was that he’d woken up in a bed still warm on Steve’s side, and the dawning realisation that everything had changed.

…Tony couldn’t be sure how long this day had actually been, but it had certainly been epic. 

And, now that he was clean, and comfortable, he could let his mind drift to the idea of curling up in his own bed, and letting his eyes just fall shut…

With Steve, right there next to him.

And then, his phone rang – or rather, vibrated harshly against the coffee table, where he’d apparently thrown it. It was immediately jarring, and Tony snatched it up more to silence it than to answer it. In fact, it wasn’t until he heard Rhodey’s voice in his ear that he recognised that he’d just taken a phone call.

“Tony? You there?” Rhodey asked “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m good.” Tony yawned “We, uh, sobered up a bit, and then we thought we might’ve left tech in the room, so we went back – we’re coming to meet you now.”

“Okay, well, I think we’ve just finished clearing every floor” Rhodey began, his voice pulled just that little bit tighter, like it always did when he was in the middle of a mission. “A couple of awkward fuckers, obviously, but… well, the point is, if _you’re_ both feeling better, we should probably get you home now.”

Exhausted though he was, Tony was now sober enough to recognise every nuance in Rhodey’s voice. Tony knew exactly what level of ball-ache this clean up was shaping up to be… probably light to middling, in the grand scheme of things – but pretty damned frustrating, in the immediate. He could tell that the team had dealt with the vast majority of issues in the few hours that they’d been here; and, naturally, Rhodey was focussing on the elements that were going to be complicated and uncooperative and awkward, further down the line.

Tony left a guilty little pleasure, knowing that, for once, he could just hand that off – at least for the next twenty-four hours or so.

That was all he wanted, anyway.

…They’d earned that much, he was sure.

But still, Tony felt obliged to ask.

“Do you know who you’re arresting and who you’re interviewing and who you’re letting someone else arrest… or… whatever?”

“Well, all the guests are being sent to the compound first.” Rhodey explained, wearily “We’re calling it a welfare liaison or something. Basically, so we can reassure the innocent and maybe pick up if any of them are culpable, et cetera, you know.”

Tony found himself nodding, even though Rhodey obviously couldn’t see him.

“The Guardians are dealing with the Mallamens, and their staff” Rhodey short-handed “I think we might have to leave them here for a few days and then come back for them, but, that’s fine…”

As Rhodey was speaking, Tony was gathering the few bits of tech that hadn’t gone with them on the mission – another file reader, a few custom made USB pens, the mini blow-torch he’d used in his make-shift drug lab. He’d already decided that the rest of his things could just stay here. A few non-descript shirts and a couple of items of soft luggage were really not worth the cognitive effort.

“We’re just holding _all_ The Facility staff for the next twenty-four hours,” Rhodey carried on. “Under good old-fashioned US law, if you can believe it – turns out that Adam actually filed a lot of registrations and legal forms, before he fell down the rabbit hole. _Technically _the whole thing is an American Corporation, which might make things _slightly _simpler… I think we’ll struggle to get most of them on anything – from the files you gave us, it seems like only a few people really knew what the hell was going on. But, as we have the right to interrogate them, and get their side of things on the record... And, anyway, none of _them_ are objecting, at the moment. They’re all just desperate to tell us how innocent they are.”

“But you got Adam?” Tony clarified, glancing at Steve – _you ready_? Steve just shrugged back, and stood up to leave; clearly, he wasn’t going to bother with _any_ of the things he’d brough with him. Tony could only smile at that. 

“Yeah, he’s still out cold.” Rhodey assured “Already in the Compound lock up… _That_ interrogation might need a bit of planning… and research…”

Tony sighed. He could only imagine how complicated that could get – especially if Adam woke up and claimed to have suddenly come to his senses, now that he’d been freed from the drugs…

…How culpable _would_ he be, if…

Was a question for another time.

For now, Tony just reassured Rhodey that they were on their way, and cast one final glance over the room they’d stayed in, that week that changed his life… and closed the door behind them. And then they headed back towards the main entrance, where Rhodey had said to meet them.

The Facility was eerily quiet now. Empty, and still – and properly lit, which was strangely grating. There was a disorientating feeling of being somewhere they shouldn’t be, like being at a nightclub after daybreak or sneaking into his high school over the summer.

And then they reached the front door – and crossed the boundary into another story altogether.

Tony had to squeeze his eyes shut, first against the flood of morning light, and then against the flurry of activity that was apparently still going on in The Facility grounds…

Everything had looked so different that first night. When he and Steve had walked through these grounds in stony silence, eyes fixed firmly on The Facility as it loomed ahead of them… It had seemed so much more ominous, as a silhouette against a starry sky. Bigger. The lush green gardens had seemed to crowd around them as they walked that pathway, an unsettling feeling of being watched from the hedges… The paved courtyard in front of the building had felt so vast when then were walking across it, the stairs that lead up the main entrance had looked so grand and imposing…

Everything seemed so much… duller, out here in the watery daylight. So much cheaper and… less fantastic, less otherworldly… _Real_.

A couple of hundred yards away, Tony could just about make out Clint and Scott, organising a large group of humans… behind that, Wanda was standing next to Sam, while he yelled impatient commands. A continual movement of others – human and Varian – forming weary lines that marched through the crowd. The unmistakable shapes of Rocket and Groot, directing traffic.

Tony shook his head, and tried to force back the first signs of a headache…

And then he heard a familiar voice… Thor.

Specifically, the tone Thor used when he was talking to children.

“Go on then, you can tell them.”

And when Tony looked over, he saw that Thor was standing with a group of maybe twenty shy-looking Varians, just to the left of the main entrance. They weren’t much shorter than Zan was, but the honesty in their faces gave them away as kids.

So, Tony arranged his expression into the appropriate level of welcoming interest, as Steve stood to attention beside him, and together they watched one of the children bravely step forward – an enormous glass bottle cradled awkwardly in both arms.

Steve walked over, already smiling gratefully when he took it from her. For a second or two after that she just looked up at him – her face so full of wonder and innocence that it made Tony’s heart ache.

“That’s for you” She told Steve eventually, with an endearingly proud affect. Tony could see Steve biting back a smile, so that he could answer entirely seriously,

“Thank you so much.” And then he glanced at the bottle, which contained easily two litres of dark, amber liquid… “What’s this?”

“It’s for special occasions.” The little girl replied, earnestly. “Our parents have to work very nearly all the time, so when they don’t have to work, it has to be very extra special, and that’s what it’s for. Except, now you came, they don’t have to work very nearly all the time anymore. So. You can have this.” And the little girl glanced back over her shoulder, hopeful and enquiring… and Tony followed her gaze to where a group of adult Varians were huddled, teary-eyed and overwhelmed…

Tony realised that the girl’s parents were probably in that group somewhere – or, at least someone she wanted to know she’d done good…

He realised that these children had probably been born here; a generation of Varians who had never known anything but slavery…

Tony realised that their parents had given he and Steve this token of their appreciation… by way of their children, who were about to know freedom for the first time…

Suddenly, his throat felt tight.

“Thank you” Steve whispered – _his_ voice somewhat horse “That’s so kind…”

“Hey, guys.” Rhodey’s voice snapped them both out of what might’ve been a bottomless moment. They just had time to catch the stoic nod that came from the Varian adults, before they turned to face him. “How’re you feeling? You ready to go?”

Tony saw Steve mouth another Thank You at the little girl – and then at the group of children watching from behind her – before he turned to Rhodey.

“_So_ ready to go.”

“C’mon” Rhodey waved at them to follow him, down to where Natasha was setting up the portal device.

And when Tony looked at her…

Tony felt like it was the first time he’d seen Natasha with these eyes.

Suddenly, he remembered the story he had so completely abandoned in the last few days, the version of reality that had actually carried on existing without him...

If it had ever existed at all…

And he thought of all the people he’d been fighting with, before these epiphanies… the fact that they would’ve just been in the compound for the last few days, unaware of any of this…

They had all just been there in the real world, the same people they’d always been, before everything changed for _him_…

And Tony wondered…

Would he have to rethink his grievances against Nat, in light of all these revelations? And Sam? And Wanda and Clint and Scott?

…Probably.

But, y’know… It just didn’t seem as frustrating a concept, as it once had.

It didn’t seem as insurmountable, or as futile, or as undefinably unpalatable…

Which wasn’t to say he was looking _forward_ to it, exactly… Now, it felt more like going to the hospital with a nasty wound. Treating this was probably going to be uncomfortable, possibly outright painful…

But it would be ridiculous to avoid dealing with this forever, just because it might be unpleasant at the time.

It would be nonsensical to let this wound fester and infect him, when he _knew_ it would never get better on its own.

When he _knew_, now, that it just wasn’t going to be as blunt or as final as he’d always assumed…

Tony had spent so long petulantly asking himself if he had been a) right about everything or b) wrong about everything… which now felt a bit like asking himself if he should a) ignore this injury completely or b) hack his own arm off. When, obviously, treating this was always going to require a delicate, time consuming operation – a string of procedures, each building on the last. And it would probably involve a few stitches, and some uncomfortable healing, and there might still be a scar left at the end…

But, when he looked at Nat _now_…

He remembered a version of Nat that had so obviously been worth that effort. A version of her that Tony had left out of his rants, ignored in his retelling of events, and then forgotten in his rage…

He saw a part of himself that he’d _allowed _to become infected by this feud, because he hadn’t dealt with it earlier.

This was the first time in years he’d thought of Nat, back in the Tower. Those years they spent throwing friendly barbs at one another and silently checking the other was okay… the years he’d spent thinking of her almost as a sister. As an _annoying_ little sister, occasionally – sometimes judgemental and often bossy and ready to call him out on _all_ of his shit… A little sister he’d been fiercely protective of, and passionately proud of, and whose company he’d genuinely enjoyed…

Tony realised now that he didn’t _want_ to forget that.

He didn’t want this wound to poison those memories.

He _wanted_ to fix this thing.

…But not right now.

At this very moment, a warm smile and a professional nod was about as much as Tony could’ve managed for anyone… but he hoped he’d seen a little flicker of recognition in her eyes, before she smiled back. She could always read him as well as anyone.

And then the compound appeared in front of them, like a wonderful mirage – and suddenly all Tony could think of was his own bed in his own home on his own planet.

With his own boyfriend.

*

When the portal closed behind them there was a moment of deafening silence. A sudden isolation and stillness that almost buzzed around their heads.

Steve was momentarily overwhelmed by the familiarity of the conference room. An immediate jolt to the senses; the moment where the familiar felt alien, and what had just seemed normal felt very far away… And then it settled in, and Steve felt it.

_Home._

They’d made it.

“So, your room or mine?” Tony asked, his voice warm and sleepy. Steve smiled at him.

“Your room is the nicest.” He answered, already looking over Tony’s shoulder to the door, expecting Tony to just turn and lead the way.

But Tony took a step closer to him. He met Steve’s eye with as focussed an expression as he could manage, and he asked.

“You want that to be _our_ room?”

And…

God, Steve had never had someone to _come home to_, in his entire life.

“Yeah.” Steve whispered, suddenly worried he might actually tear up. “Yeah, I’d _really_ like that…”

And Tony took that final step, and tilted his head up to kiss Steve very softly…

It was only when Steve went to put his hand to Tony’s back that he remembered the bottle he was holding.

“What did she say that was?” Tony asked, when they got to walking out to the elevator.

“…For special occasions” Steve remembered, with a smile. He waited until the elevator doors had closed behind them before he pulled the cork free, and took a very cautious sniff

It smelled… _familiar_… But not.

It smelled like something he didn’t remember…

And just as the struggle to put his finger on it was becoming sharply frustrating, Tony found the answer for him

“Cherry Bakewell.”

…Ah.

Yes.

A night Steve _almost_ remembered, now that he thought of it…

The night he’d drunkenly called Tony beautiful, and then fallen asleep in his lap, and then felt horribly guilty about… it was pleasantly amusing, to think of it now-

And then a thought occurred to him.

And he turned in time to see the same thought occur to Tony – a shared raising of eyebrows, the same sly little smile…

Steve replaced the cork _very_ carefully.

Well, it would be nice to at least have the option of getting a little bit drunk…

On special occasions, obviously.

Tony took the bottle with equal care when they got to his room

-_our room_

…when they got back to _their_ room – making sure it was safely locked away almost as soon as they got through the door.

And then he took Steve’s hand, and led him through to _their_ bed.

It was the most enticing thing that Steve had ever seen. Every cell in his body seemed to recognise it as a place of safety and rest – every part of him wanted that, now. And it was _so_ tempting to just fall into it, so physically difficult to even _think_ about having to get undressed first-

And then Tony just smiled at him.

“C’mere.” He mumbled, tugging Steve’s arm – _follow me_ – as he climbed on top of the covers, still fully clothed. And Steve grinned, and crawled onto the bed, just about managing to kick his shoes off before he collapsed into the mattress beside Tony. Tony wriggled closer, and Steve pulled him in, letting him settle into that space against his chest that he so perfectly fit.

“I love you.” Steve whispered, pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“I love you” Tony answered, his voice almost slurring… And then Steve felt him melt into sleep right there in his arms.

And Steve wondered, briefly, if this ever could have happened without The Facility – if, in with all the evil and the complacency and the skewed ideology, there maybe hadn’t been a little bit of something good… If things _could_ be both, and all that…

But then he realised… All the time he’d spent in that ‘magical’ place, with all those drugs to enhance every sensation and all those incredible events to feel good about… None of it felt as incredible as this moment.

Just having Tony fall asleep in his arms, sober and fully dressed, in this most everyday of settings on the planet they called home… in _their_ bed…

This was real.

This was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading!
> 
> As ever, ALL feedback is gratefully received! But, if anyone does have any specific thoughts on  
a) Whether this is missing any necessary tags or warnings, or if there are any current tags that aren't clear, or are potentially misleading.  
b) Whether this DOES end up as balanced in the end, or if perhaps it DOES still merit a 'TeamTony' tag, or a 'Steve Friendly' tag or whatever... As I say, I've attempted balance here, but I know I have my own biases and, for various reasons, there are elements that don't even get discussed here (Team Steve aren't *there* to answer any of the points Tony makes about them, for example, and they rather dance around The Accords...) So, I'd really appreciate input on this. More than anything I'd like to ensure it's accurately labelled, so that people can choose whether its something they want to read. 
> 
> Finally... I have a *vague* idea about maybe writing a sequel to this - which won't happen for a while, because I have a lot of things to catch up on after the most hectic of all Christmases... but, I've made a post about the idea here: https://wilmakins.tumblr.com/post/189976981732/for-those-of-you-that-read-the-facility   
So, if you have any thoughts about it, I'd love to hear them!
> 
> And thank you again! Happy New Year!


	23. Moodboard and Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely promise not to keep adding chapters of extras to this fic - if there is any more artwork etc to be added later, I'll edit this final chapter to include it.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!

**The Facility - Playlist**

1\. Aint Nothing Like A Gangbang - The Sensational Alex Harvey Band

2\. Mama Told Me Not To Come - Three Dog Night

3\. Imagine Dragons - Bleeding Out

4\. This Town Aint Big Enough For The Both Of Us - Sparks

5\. What You’re Made Of - Lucie Silvas

6\. Black And Blue - Grace Petrie

7\. Bad Romance - Lady Gaga

8\. Screamager - Therapy?

9\. Freeek - George Michael

10\. You’re My Temptation - Alice Cooper

11\. Dare Me - The Pointer Sisters

12\. It’s All Coming Back To Me Now - Celine Dion

13\. Try - P!nk

14\. Read All About It - Emeli Sande

15\. Here I Am - Bryan Adams

16\. Because Of You - Meatloaf

17\. We Found Love - Rihanna ft Calvin Harris

18\. Hold You - Gyptian

**Watch The Playlist on Youtube:**


	24. SUBSCRIBER NOTICE

Hey all - I apologise if this isn't the correct fandom etiquette (and do feel free to let me know, if that's the case) But I'm told that subscribers to this fic wouldn't necessarily get a notification if it became a series, and another fic was added...

So, no new chapter - but this just became a series, and another fic got added 😁

It's not _the_ sequel as yet - although, if you like to gather easter eggs, it IS written with an understanding of what the sequel will entail... But, on the face of it, it's just a little one shot about how Steve and Tony's relationship unfolds. 

There will also be other one shots, and yes, hopefully that sequel eventually - but I figure people can subscribe to the series if they're interested in it, so I won't be added a new chapter to this every time I add one 😂

I'll also probably delete this chapter once the notification has gone out to everyone. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don’t support the Sokovian Accords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728879) by [PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson/pseuds/PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson)


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